Heroes Slash Short Fics
by Tiw-K
Summary: *On Hold* A bunch of slash short fics and drabbles. Mostly Mylar: MohinderSylar or Gabriel pairings. Some Plaude at the beginning. Also some other random pairings scattered about. Review if you see something you like and I might write more on it later.
1. Plaude 100 words

Warnings: Slash Has Claude/Peter moments.

Disclaimer: Don't own NBC Heroes or any of the characters

Author's Note: I was bored...wrote some drabbles...If you don't like them I really don't care. Was sort of a challenge given to me by my sister. Write 100 word drabbles with a requirement. The requirement was Peter needed to be smacked/mention of being beaten at least once.

* * *

#1 

It was a beautiful morning for Peter as he watched the traffic drive by below. The morning shower had refreshed him from his lessons the following night. He pondered on what to have for breakfast when a blow smacked him upside the head.

"You didn't even hear me coming, now did you Poodle! All these training sessions and you can't even master the basics." The angry voice of his companion growled in his ear. "Always pay attention to your surroundings!"

Peter rubbed the back of his head and glared at Claude's sneering face. The bright morning wasn't that beautiful anymore.

* * *

#2 

Claude had just finished feeding the pigeons, his dear old companions, when he eyed Peter still sulking in the corner. They had had another round a bout training session and Peter was still pouting over the unfairness of the fight.

Peter had been holding his own, in which really he's just dodging quick enough, when Claude tried something new. He got Peters arms distracted and zoomed in for a kiss. A sweet, short, innocent touch of the lips and then brought his fist under Peter's jaw. Claude wondered if Peter was blushing from rage or embarrassment. Though, it didn't matter.

* * *

#3 

Peter stood slightly behind Nathan as the press asked questions about Peter's recent visit to rehab (training with Claude), when his eyes saw an advertisement on a bus.

_Fall in Love in Hawaii!_

'Hawaii?' Peter thought to himself, 'I wonder if Claude would go for it…"

"And what does Peter plan to do now after this rehabilitation episode?" The paparazzi enquired.

"What are you going to do Peter?" Nathan questioned, staring pointedly.

"Go to Hawaii with my boyfriend." Peter answered automatically, not thinking.

He met Claude that night for the second beating of the day and also a great idea.

* * *

#4 

Claude just grabbed a hot dog right out the hands of an unsuspecting teenage brat when thin arms grabbed his waist and pulled him towards the alley. He lashed out with his arm and struck a surprised and horny Peter on the cheek.

"What the hell poodle! You just lost me my lunch!" Claude growled shaking Peter's insistent arms off.

"Please. Please." Peter whined, pawing Claude insistently. "I _need _you!"

"What got into you?" Claude asked alarmed holding him back.

"This chick…seducer…fuck. Need _you_!" Peter panted rubbing against Claude, undoing his pants.

Claude sighed, irritated, "You owe me lunch after."

* * *

#5 

Claire giggled as Peter's hand was slapped again. She never envisioned Claude as a baking fellow, but here he was dressed in an apron stirring the batter of a chocolate cake. Peter kept trying to steal tastes of it but Claude was always so much faster.

Claude finally finished mixing and stuck the chocolate coated spoon in his mouth before Peter could swipe it. Peter waited as Claude greedily licked it clean and then he pounced and stole a kiss, licking away the batter surrounding Claude's surprised mouth.

When cake was served that night, Claire couldn't hold in her laughter.

* * *


	2. Mylar 100 words

A/N: Umm...I wrote these in class...

* * *

He gets farther away each time, knowing that the hunter is just playing with him, getting as much enjoyment from the chase as with the capture. It's raining when he's caught again. The torrential downpour has him soaked to the bone, leaving him shivering while dialing hard-to-see buttons on the payphone. The little warmth from his breath his fogging up the glass as natures tears slide down his face, dripping from his once curly hair. Before he finishes dialing, the line goes dead and warm strong arms are enveloping him. Cruel lips caress his ear and he submits himself again.

* * *

Watching the doctor is fun. The once proud, hopeful man is broken and frightened. He is unable to sleep unless heavily drugged or exhausted. He is so paranoid that he leaves his pretty updated list behind, just to keep him always satisfied. He never is, not until the doctor views his gifts. Those severed heads of people who die to make this world better. He loves to see the doctor go green and can't make it out of the room before hurling. When he rises from unconsciousness the head is gone, but it will haunt him. Sylar wishes it so.

* * *

Sylar is a possessive creature. He likes to own things and mark his territory. He likes to scent his possessions and horde them from others. Mohinder does not remember the last time he knew where he was. Sylar controls every aspect of what used to be a life. When he eats, sleeps, feels desire, feels pain, cries, screams, fights back, and when he only just sits and looks pretty. It's a simple life for him to follow. He died spiritually and mentally a long time ago. He stopped caring and hoping years ago. Now he only does what he's told.

* * *

The sex is great. For one who looks clumsy and actions shout too shy to even think about it, he has a lot of experience. Mohinder feels like the inexperienced one when Zane prowls toward him after opening the motel door with a spare key. His eyes smoldering and keeping Mohinder trapped with the stare. Those large hands, which fiddle with shirt sleeves, are too strong. Mohinder is lost after the first bruising kiss, unable to think. He awakes when Zane's gone the semen cools and dries on his skin, the marks on his neck burning fresh, Mohinder will cry.

* * *


	3. Zane, Sylar, and Gabriel kisses

Pairings: Mohinder/Zane, Mohinder/Sylar, Mohinder/Gabriel

* * *

As Zane, he tasted of cinnamon sugar coating a chocolate dipped tongue not dried out to perfection yet. Sloppy sweet kisses trailed hungrily down Mohinder's sun-kissed neck. Overeager, clumsy hands skimmed the surface of his torso, feather light and ticklish with nervousness. Sometimes the awkwardness of inexperience led to accidental head butting or painful bites that drew blood. Mohinder would have to calm Zane down and convince him again why he started in the first place with gentle loving kisses. Those moments of insecurity would melt away as hormones took over. Short and sweet was how Mohinder remembered his Zane.

* * *

Sylar brought about terror, pain, and joy. His kisses were flavored with blood, sweat, and tears. Mohinder hated how much he loved the pain as Sylar jackknifed inside of him sending waves of agony and pleasure. Sylar enjoyed the control, being able to hold him down with a thought and drag blunt nails across his chest, leaving wet dark marks that stung for days afterwards. He loved to cause pain but hated the screams, so he stole away air with bloody teeth filled kisses. Trailing marks across Mohinder's jaw marking, and taking everything. Power and control were what explained Sylar.

* * *

Gabriel was cold and dead to the world. His motionless body sat unmoving under gentle and brutal touches. His once alighted eyes were dim and dark, unchanging with every kiss, every bite, and every bleeding cut. That face shed tears that weren't his own such a tragic picture that only inspired hate within Mohinder. He was never sweet and innocent; he was never terrifying and strong. You could yell at him all you want, break every bone in his body, but he'd still stay the same old Gabriel. No longer ticking and broken long ago, Mohinder loved him the most.

* * *


	4. Second Plaude 100 words

A/N: Umm...more Peter/Claude...though not as happy

* * *

1 

It was an agony to live life without him. I have no idea how that sorry excuse for a human being could worm his way into my battle scarred heart. He cared too much for other that he'd probably end up dying trying to save a kitten from getting hit by a car. I never asked for him to follow me, I didn't want to train him. He forced me into this love and now I'm trapped. I tried running away because I was falling hard, but it was too late. Figures I'd fall for the type I hate most.

* * *

2 

Nathan couldn't stop it from happening. He tried as hard as he could to keep Peter safe from those who would hurt him. He bought out all those potential girlfriends and boyfriends that only wanted him for his pretty looks. If they couldn't be bought, he blackmailed them. When Nathan thought for sure Peter would be safe, that fool had to fall for a man like Claude. The very sight of Claude made Nathan want to punch him, but one smile from Peter and he had to stifle the urge. If Claude ever hurt Peter, Nathan vowed he'd kill him.

* * *

3 

It amused Angela greatly to watch Claude and Peter. At first it alarmed her at how aggressive and controlling Claude was. But after watching their relationship for a year she could see that it was really Claude who was being controlled. One smile from Peter had Claude's own gruff scowl crumbling into warmth. A teasing finger trailed down his jaw had Claude trembling and full of lust. Peter was oblivious to this power. He didn't see that Claude's training sessions and brutal blows were only excuses so he could kiss the younger man silly. Yes, it was amusing to behold.

* * *

4 

Peter didn't know if Claude loved him or hated him. The gruff Englishman was really difficult to read. Some days he loved to cuddle underneath the blankets in the early morning, scrubbing his stubble chin across Peter's chest. Most other days he was pulling off the blankets, dumping a bucket of ice cold water, and yelling for Peter to be up and outside in two minutes in order to start training. He got beaten, and loved. It probably wasn't the best lifestyle to have, but Peter wouldn't trade it for anything else in the world. He loved Claude too much.

* * *

5 

Peter woke up from nightmares where he was being chased down by an unshakable shadow. Peter was able to handle it before because strong, warm arms would envelope him and growl at him to stop moving. The comfort in a gesture that would never occur if Claude were awake was what soothed away Peter's deepest fears. Since Claude had left, Peter now only got the sleep he used to. When he thought he was accepted as part of that gruff mans life, like the pigeons, he was proved wrong. Nothing changed; he was the same old dreaming fool, like always.

* * *


	5. Second Mylar 100 words

A/N: Hee...I played around. Has one spoiler for .07 but if you haven't seen it...That's really sad.

* * *

1: Split Sylar

Sylar hated him with his entire being. Hated the way those chocolate eyes that flashed with terror made his insides squirm. Those silent gasps of pain, audible only to Sylar's ears, nearly drove him up the wall, wanting to consume and take away all the air used to make those sounds. Sylar did not love _him _because he could not love. His mind knew and understood this; Sylar is a monster who can only bring pain and destruction who should be granted death. He couldn't cherish another life above his own, but unfortunately Sylar's heart wouldn't listen to his mind.

* * *

2 : Thoughts

Why am I alive? I should be dead. Kill me. I don't want to live anymore. You promised me death. You begged for my foolish life and I wouldn't listen to your words. My own rage clouded my hearing making me deaf to the meanings behind your words. Please don't touch me so gently. You must know your kisses will only bring me pain. I want to die. Don't love me. The worst thing you could do is love me. That must be why you're doing this, this makes sense. You wish to break me first and then I die.

* * *

3: A/U: Mohinder went with Chandra to meet Gabriel

Chandra didn't know what to expect of Gabriel Gray. He was still gathering data to complete and fulfill his research to really care about what sort of person he might be. Chandra was more grateful than he thought when Mohinder offered to come along. Mohinder was a failure at being a scientist because he cared too much. He never paid attention to solid facts but instead possibilities. Chandra would never admit that Mohinder was the one who discovered the ability. Gabriel had indeed been a very special individual. He proved the scientific theory and dragged Mohinder away from failing science.

* * *

4: On the road

They had been driving for hours when Zane started complaining about his legs falling asleep.

"Well leave in five minutes." Mohinder informed a stiff-legged Zane as he headed into the confectionary.

They had been driving since six that morning and it was now nearing noon. Mohinder leaned against the bumper and turned his face towards the warm sky, letting his mind wander to his memories in India.

"Oh, wow." A whispered voice brushed past his face.

Mohinder was startled by a gentle brush of lips against his own. His eyes opened revealing a smiling Zane.

"You're pretty."

And Mohinder blushed.

* * *

5: Very mixed up. It started at the end...

"_Oh no, I'm not done with him yet."_

Oh, so very true. Sylar had only been beginning when Peter had interrupted.

"_How long will it take to make you scream Mohinder?" _

Those smirking lips breathed cool air across his ear and made me shiver. I really hate you.

"_You're very pretty when afraid."_

You said the same when I was crying. Maybe you'll say that when I'm dead.

"_We could have done so much together Mohinder."_

It hurts because that's true. After reading Zane's obituary I briefly thought the same.

"_I'm going to miss you."_

Please don't tell me lies.

* * *


	6. Future Mylar

A/N: Episode 20!!!! XD Mohinder/Nathan(Sylarindisguise)

* * *

1 

Those hands are so strong and warm, so familiar. Mohinder has to shake the thought away in order to not sink back into black haunting nightmares. He tells himself that man died five years ago and Nathan only has a similar build. The face is different, the voice is different. Why are their eyes the same? The same intense look that Sylar gave him when he pinned him up on the ceiling. The same stare Sylar had when he told Peter he wasn't done yet. His soul is torn to pieces from remembering because Nathan won't allow him to forget.

* * *

2 

Mohinder, my dear naïve little friend. For five years I've sat here watching you, guiding you, giving you the resources you want even though I know your dreams won't come true. You can't change the way we are and never could. It's a good thing I love you, I could have killed you long ago. I grant you the mercy of trying but I can see your hope failing you. Your father's research isn't getting you anywhere because he never wanted to save us, he wanted to change himself. Because I love you, I'll let you find that out yourself.

* * *

3 

"Have you been sleeping?" An innocent question, he asks it every day and you've memorized the answer.

"Yes." You lie and he knows it, it's all part of the game.

He takes your head in his gentle hands and tilts it so your eyes meet his.

"Don't lie to me Mohinder." The way he says your name is so painful and achingly familiar.

"Sorry." You whisper as he brushes away the tears.

It's the same scene started two years ago and you know it won't ever change.

"Sleep tonight Mohinder."

"I will." Another lie, but he just smiles in return.

* * *

4 

I never really pictured myself being with the older of the Petrelli brothers. Both of them came at me with proposals, but something about Nathan himself drew me away. His self-satisfied smirk maybe? He seemed so sure of himself when he sat himself in the worn out armchair across from me. He didn't even seem interested in what he was proposing and seemed to be taking me in, waiting for a reaction as he talked with eyes so dark and mesmerizing. His offer sat in the silence and I nodded my head, unable to think of refusing what he wanted.

* * *

A/N: XD I love Heroes! 


	7. Future Plaude

A/N: Such an inspiring episode...XD

* * *

1 

I don't know when my relationship with her started. After the explosion we had drifted together, both having lost those important to us. I lost Claude; she lost her son, her husband, and her sister. Niki was so surprised when it was me who came to her. She was expecting my brother, but Nathan has a strange obsession with Mohinder. We survive together. Leaning on each other for support, I can throw her through as many walls as she can throw me. Together we are equal, but only in strength. She'll never replace my Claude and I can't replace Micah.

* * *

2

The pigeons were flying about, feathers scattering across the rooftop. Peter turned and his breath caught as the man he loved appeared.

"Claude." He whispered, not able to voice his hopes in fear he'd vanish again.

He nods in response then turns away to watch his birds flying away.

"I…I thought you died." Anything to fill the silence, to hear his voice.

Claude sighs and catches a feather floating in the breeze. A sigh has never sounded more beautiful except passing from his lips.

"You're dreamin' lad." Claude states quietly, as all feathers turn to ash.

Peter wakes up crying.

* * *

3

"How do you stop an exploding man?" A question full of curiosity but it bears heavily on the mind.

"Kill 'im before he explodes." Claude's answers are always simple, never real.

"Could you kill me Claude?" Knowing the answer doesn't mean you can't ask the question anyways.

"Never." Claude hates to admit it, but it's true.

"So, how can you stop an exploding man?" The dilemma of the century, but there has to be a solution.

"Maybe you don't stop 'im. Let this godforsaken city blow up." Claude would like that a lot, except he doesn't want me to die.

* * *

4

Sylar, I hate him more than I hate myself. Which is a whole lot of hate. He defiled my brother's memory. The only person who I had left and he's dead. His life is taken over by a parasite, an evil man who used me to take over the country. He saw my future of exploding and exploited it. My brother was dead long before the bomb did go off and no one was the wiser. Not even Linderman knew and he was a room away when it happened. I'll destroy you Sylar, that's the only thing I can promise.

* * *


	8. Mylar AU meeting

A/N: Back and forth sequence...Each set is about 50 words long. A/U meeting between Gabriel and Mohinder

* * *

The chime of a bell caused Gabriel to look up, scattering the gears to roll across the table. He dived forward to stop them from falling to the floor, but missed over half of them. Scrambling over the side of his work table, Gabriel forgot he even had a guest. 

Mohinder paused when he heard a clatter at the end of the room. The watchmaker had dived to the ground after a pile of scattering gears. One of the gears rolled across the floor and hit his shoes. Feeling bad for startling the poor fellow, Mohinder bent down to help.

Gabriel piled the gears into his lap, mentally counting how many he had. From what he saw at least twelve had been knocked down, but at the moment he could only find nine. He reached for the tenth one only to have a warm, honey colored hand get there first.

Mohinder paused when the watchmaker jumped after brushing hands. He picked up his third gear and held them out to the wide-eyed young man. He smiled warmly, flashing his pearly white teeth and pulled the unmoving man's arm to accept the time pieces. The watchmaker then scrambled to his feet.

"I…I'm sorry." Gabriel muttered, dropping the gears onto his table and wiping his sweating hands on his pants. "How may I help you?"

Gabriel felt butterflies flutter in his stomach and his face heat up as the other man continued smiling up at him from his position on the floor.

Mohinder couldn't keep the grin off his face. The other man's face had turned such a bright red and Mohinder sat back admiring those large, deer-like eyes and messy brown hair. 

"I've heard you fix watches." Mohinder replied, chuckling softly when the other man moved away as he rose.

Gabriel had to sit down before his legs gave out. This man was as close to a God or an angel that Gabriel ever saw. Perfect honey-gold skin, bouncing ebony curls, and a melting hot smile. 

"Y..Yes. I can." Gabriel couldn't prevent the stutter, and he looked away in embarrassment.

"That's great!" Mohinder was glad that exclamation grabbed the man's attention away from his hands. "Could you fix my father's watch?" 

Mohinder pulled out the old silver watch and handed it over; leaving a lingering brush against the other mans large, warm fingers. The watchmaker pulled back as if burned.

The lingering brush sent tingling sensations up Gabriel's arm and he glanced up at the smirking customer only to gulp deeply. The room had suddenly gotten a little too warm for the sweater he was wearing. Gabriel set about fixing the watch, painfully aware of that hot gaze on him.

Mohinder didn't know why but he felt some sick glee watching the other squirm under his stare. His lustful thoughts were postponed as he watched in puzzlement as the watchmaker put the watch to his ear, as if listening for something. The man's movements became confident, fixing the watch expertly.

"Nothing serious." Gabriel reported to the curious stare of his customer. "The self-winding coil is loose."

His insides squirmed as the man leaned closer, a hand brushed Gabriel's neck as it moved to support the body with the chair back as it observed Gabriel's workmanship.

"Amazing." Breathed into Gabriel's ear.

"No…Nothing much." The watchmaker trembled and Mohinder grinned, able to see the sweat collecting on the other man's collar. 

"You knew through sound alone the problem." Mohinder continued to breathe teasingly on that moist neck, feeling pleasure when the man shivered.

"A si…Simple talent I have." His stuttering was endearing.

The rumble of the other man's laughter vibrated through his body, they were so close, and Gabriel dropped the watch. 

"Sorry." He exclaimed, reaching for it but a warm hand closed over his.

"Don't worry about it." The husky whisper at his throat sent a thrill run through his body.

Mohinder licked the watchmaker's neck, enjoying the taste of sweat he inspired. The watchmaker froze in shock and Mohinder chuckled again. His kissed, butterfly kisses up the man's neck, enjoying his shudders of pleasure. He released his hold on the watchmaker's wrist and used it to gently turn the head.

Warm lips brushed his lip and Gabriel moaned softly, feeling the smile spread on those gorgeous lips on his. He hesitantly ran his own finger through those silky locks as the kiss was deepened. Gabriel's senses were on overdrive absorbing the smell of cinnamon and flavor of spicy ginger tea.

Mohinder pulled away slowly, admiring the reddened lips and panted breathing of this beautiful man. The watchmaker stared at him dazedly and let his hand slide slowly down that beautiful smooth cheek. The chiming of the clock marking the hour brought them back out forcefully from their private little world.

"How much?" The gorgeous man enquired, causing Gabriel's brain to jump start.

"What?" He asked stupidly and blushed when the man motioned towards the watch, grinning. "Oh…uh…Don't worry about it."

He turned away from those eyes and replaced the back of the watch. The man leaned over him once more.

"I'm Mohinder." Mohinder whispered into the ear, nibbling slightly just for kicks. 

The watchmaker took a deep shuddering breath. "Gabriel."

Mohinder grinned and took the watch from Gabriel's limp hands. "Thank you for the repair."

Mohinder moved back towards the entrance, able to feel those confused eyes on his back.

"I'll be seeing you soon." Mohinder threw over his shoulder before closing the door with a snapping click. 

Gabriel sat there staring for a long time holding his hand to his lips. He remembered that warm tongue twisting with his own and he moaned. Feeling giddy, he closed shop early.

* * *

A/N: How was it? 


	9. Future Mohinder

A/N: Umm...A/U and continuation off of 'Five Years Gone'. Not really full of slash, there are some implied moments but nothing really definite. This is just really weird to me and I wrote it in the middle of doing homework. I'm really tired too.

Mohinder POV

* * *

The feeling of cool metal against his cheek and a stabbing weight on his shoulder is the reality Mohinder awoke to. He was pinned in between a wall and the metal door he could vaguely remember trying to keep closed in order to give Hiro time to leave. His body seized in on itself as his cloudy mind came into focus, but his body did not have the strength to remove the door. 

Mohinder entertained thoughts of calling for help but the silence was unnerving, making him believe that no one around had survived or that people had already searched and left. The door probably blocked any view of a body so it was only logical to assume that no one would have even known he was underneath it. Also no one except Matt Parkman and Nathan Petrelli knew he had been in this room in the first place.

Weighing his options, Mohinder decided that maybe he could see if his cell was in reach. Nathan had been adamant about him keeping it on his person at all times when it was first given to him. It made sense at the time with so many important figures being attacked by terrorist, people who were terrified for their lives and striking out against those who threatened them, but after a while it had seemed silly because Mohinder was the most protected person save for the President himself.

He always wondered why Nathan seemed so fixed on keeping him safe and unaware of the event taking place out in the streets of the country. Mohinder had been mostly sheltered, almost exclusively confined to either the research facility provided by Nathan to search for a cure and also the white house. Mohinder would sleep and eat either at the lab or in the guest room prepared specifically on Nathan's order right next to the Presidents own room when news of his lack of sleep hit the President's ears.

If Mohinder had nightmares of the unpleasant things of his past, Nathan would be there in his room soothing him when he awoke. He would say the room walls were paper thin and he'd awoken from his own slumber, but Mohinder doubted the plausibility of those statements long ago because he really couldn't imagine someone sleeping in a suit. Well, actually he could imagine Nathan maybe doing that sometimes but not every single night for the last year and a half he'd been in office when Mohinder was brought to the White House.

Nathan was caring in his harsh, proper ways. Not at all the epitome of brotherly love painted by Peter's descriptions when they had gotten together over coffee two days before hell broke loose on earth. Such a almost carefree moment that was, except that the looming darkness was tainting their thoughts and their laughter was a little more forced than what they both would have liked it to have been. Peter was a little more skittish and paranoid, but he still managed to confess the most wonderful and tragic moments of his life before they parted that day, never to see each other again except maybe on newspaper clippings. Peter became a top wanted terrorist and Mohinder became his brother's right hand man.

The right hand man of the president, it was a known fact to everyone but Mohinder was the last one to know. He hadn't thought much about what he meant to the president because Mohinder had really only two focuses in his life. Finding the cure and forgetting. He had heard in passing a whispered comment between two sallow faced interns who were dressed up nicely but their attractiveness was lost by the heavy bags under their eyes. They were giggling about Nathan's latest investment, a new suit for Mohinder, and were whispering in wonder when the wedding would be.

That had stopped Mohinder dead in his tracks because he knew Nathan had bought him a new suit, the man had mentioned it after comforting Mohinder from his nightmare over a steaming mug of chai, but he hadn't really thought it was for a wedding. He wasn't aware that Nathan had taken on a new love interest after his wife and children had been slaughtered by terrorists. It was mildly curious to wonder what kind of person Nathan would be into due to the fact that he in passing stated he couldn't love anyone else like Heidi ever again.

Shrugging it off for the more important matters of work, Mohinder resigned himself to maybe ask Nathan about it later when he came in for the daily reports. The thought had escaped him when he delved into the complicated coding of new DNA that had been brought in shipment the night before. Mohinder was exhausted and thrilled when he entered the oval office, having discovered a new link to the DNA chain, that he took a moment in pause at the sight of Nathan leaning casually against his desk. It was a rather uncharacteristic pose for him who usually stood stiffly and the stance was reminiscent of a person Mohinder had for months been trying to forget.

Nathan had smiled at him, another almost uncharacteristic thing except for the box his right hand was resting on. It had been the new suit he had promised and realization flashed in Mohinder's somewhat sluggish mind. He was going to voice the question about the marriage but Nathan had demanded him to try the suit on right away. It's kind of difficult to refuse a direct demand from the president and even more so to refuse Nathan, if Peter's stories in his memory were anything to go by. Mohinder took the box gracefully; still unsettled by Nathan's habit at initiating physical contact any time he could with lingering brushes or a steady grip on his shoulder.

The suit had fit perfectly and Nathan had been pleased though he didn't express it vocally or with his face, Mohinder could see it glimmering in his eyes. Mohinder had waiting for the wedding but it hadn't come and Nathan had never introduced him to any potential lovers. When Mohinder passed the interns another time after visiting Nathan and they had a more deadened look about them and never even bothered talking to each other, instead used each other to support their weary bodies.

Mohinder let that trail of thought fade away as he realized he'd been stuck in his position for the last twenty or so minutes thinking about nothing particularly useful to getting himself unstuck. He backtracked to figure out where he went off on a tangent and remembered that it started with his idea of using a cell phone. If his arms were able he would have smack himself on the forehead for his stupidity, but that wasn't a luxury so he instead set about trying to wriggle his arm to his pocket.

It was a difficult task but the rush of success that flowed through Mohinder's veins when his hand closed around the familiar hardness of his phone made up for the momentary pain shooting through his elbow. The feeling vanished when Mohinder realized his dilemma of actually worming the device far enough to reach his ear. He didn't have enough strength to try it so he fumbled blindly with the buttons hoping eventually he'd get someone's number to direct them to him.

An interesting thing happened before he dialed a full sequence of a phone number; the phone rang on its own. Mohinder flailed about skimming his thumb over the possible answering button. He couldn't remember if it was the left one or the right, one would answer the other would hang up. After a ten second delay he chose the right button and listened intently for noise. The phone just beeped signaling that he had refused to take the call.

After a round of silent cussing, Mohinder decided to wait a while to see if the person would call back. If it was Nathan who called, he'd either be rallying up a search party to find him and demand why he hung up in the first place. If it was someone from the lab, they'd try calling back in five minutes because Mohinder was obviously too busy to answer the first time.

Mohinder let his eyes rest as they grayness of the wall in front of him started hurting his sight. The fact that his glasses had painfully dug into his nose on impact probably wasn't helping very much. The position he was in was so awkward that everything but his arms was numb to him. It was a strange position to be crouching down in that reminded Mohinder of the yoga masters curled up on their blankets back home in India.

India, his homeland, was very different from the United States. The weather was a lot warmer and recently the sun seemed a lot brighter in his memory of that place than here. He slightly regretted leaving when he hung from the ceiling staring down at Sylar's frowning face knotted eyebrows. His stare had been so intense and penetrating at the time that it sent terror clawing up and down Mohinder's spine. Such an unnamable emotion was on that hated face, but Mohinder couldn't figure out what it meant because Peter had arrived.

Mohinder blinked away the memory at the sound of his phone again. This time he made sure to push the left button and was surprised to hear it was Nathan calling.

"Mohinder? Are you there?" Mohinder never felt so relieved.

"Yes." His voice was rasped and barely audible but Nathan seemed to hear it clearly.

"Where are you? Why did you hang up?" The tone was a demand but underlying it was fear and panic.

"I'm trapped." Mohinder admitted tiredly. "Between a metal door and a wall."

"I'll be there shortly." It seemed as though Nathan knew exactly what door Mohinder meant which proved his past analysis that no one had bothered looking there before.

Nathan arrived in no time with a team of his police force. The door was removed from him in no time, causing his pinned body to sink to the floor and allowing Mohinder to finally feel the blood circulating painfully through his legs. Nathan reached for him and cradled him closely to his body, like he would do every night for the last five years.

"I couldn't kill him." Mohinder felt like he had to admit that and let Nathan know he was let down.

"I know. It's okay." Nathan replied, smoothing his hand through Mohinder's hair which was comforting and gently removing the irritating glasses.

Nathan ordered his men to get a stretcher and they hesitated in a weird way before complying. They seemed awfully jumpy compared to when the last time Mohinder had been in their presence. When he got a bleary look around the room he figured out why. The building had been torn apart in a way that was a reminder of what occurred five years ago. It didn't bother Mohinder like he thought it would because he was back in the protection of the President who would much rather prefer Mohinder not know about this sort of life.

He let his tired body drift off to sleep knowing that when the nightmares reappeared Nathan would be there to comfort him from the shadows.

* * *

A/N: I prob. won't have another update in here until after I finish my 'Out of Mind' chapter and aiming to get that done for Friday or Saturday night. 


	10. Mylar AU meeting 2

A/N: Okay...I didn't exactly lie last post about updating Out of Mind first. I had half of this written already before I posted the last drabble and this was actually supposed to be number nine. I instead was inspired by another train of thought and never got this finished.

This is a continuation from Gabriel/Mohinder (number 8) drabble at the request of nico8188. You might notice where the flow of the story changes because I stopped about half way and wrote other things. This is A/U of Gabriel and Mohinder meeting.

* * *

It was a week later and Gabriel had been thinking that maybe that moment had just been a dream. It seemed so surreal for someone that beautiful to kiss him. To forget about his depressing, self-destroying thoughts Gabriel curled up on the couch for a short nap before making lunch. 

Mohinder sat staring down at the phone list irritated. He couldn't understand why his father didn't do this work himself, he didn't even believe in his father's research. Mohinder couldn't believe how stupid he was for following his father to America, but last weeks memory kept him slightly less regretful.

Sleep wasn't coming and Gabriel shifted restlessly on the couch. His mind kept wandering back to that sunny day. Those warm lips sliding against his own, the shiver-inducing breath across his warm, sweaty neck, that rumbling, musical laughter. The memories kept away the disappointment from the man's failure to return.

Mohinder was getting tired of people hanging up in the middle of his explanation. He'd already gone through twenty names and no such luck. His father just sent him a look, telling him not to complain. Mohinder would try one more name, maybe Gabriel Gray would be his lucky break.

Gabriel jumped, startled at the ringing of his phone. No one ever called him, not even his family. He considered ignoring it, maybe it was a telemarketer, but the persistent ringing changed his mind. Gabriel stretched as he rose from the couch and padded over to the phone, answering it.

"Hello?" A confused, timid voice answered.

"Hello, my name is Mohinder Suresh. Is Gabriel Gray there?" Mohinder answered smoothly, twirling a pencil between his fingers and leaning in his chair lazily.

There was a sudden clunk on the other line as if the phone had fallen. Mohinder sat straight, alarmed.

Gabriel could not believe it, his mind was in so much shock he dropped the phone. He knew that voice; he heard it in his dreams for the last week.

"Hello? Are you okay?" The alarm and worry in Mohinder's voice was almost painful to Gabriel.

"Sorry, I was startled."

Mohinder grinned in relief, thankful that the other person hadn't fainted or anything. "Is this Gabriel?"

There was a short pause on the other line before a whispered confirmation sounded. "Yes."

"Have you noticed anything unusual happening to you recently?" Mohinder waited for the usual tone that followed this question.

Gabriel's mind puzzled over the question. The only unusual thing that happened to him was his meeting this man and Gabriel was now worried that something bad may have happened at that time.

"Not…That I know of." He trailed off uncertainly.

"Are you sure? Nothing strange like flying or invisibility?"

"What!" That voice was full of disbelief and Mohinder had to chuckle.

"Sorry, I didn't really start this well." He had gotten into the practice of just stating the point instead of easing people into things, a habit obtained when people randomly started screaming in his ear. "I'll explain it."

Gabriel listened intently as Mohinder rambled on about genetic coding, evolution, and super powers. He wasn't really listening to the words because the sound of Mohinder's breathing was making his hair stand on end and his eyes flutter as he imagined those lips moving. Gabriel didn't want Mohinder to stop.

"We believe that you have a genetic marker yourself, Mr. Gray. We obtained a sample when you donated it and it has some similar traits with other specimens that have produced results of evolution." Mohinder took a deep breath after his five minute long rant. "You have any questions yet?"

Gabriel started when beautiful voice stopped talking and felt himself blush for not listening at all.

"Were you at a watch shop last week?" The question came unbidden off his lips and he clamped a hand over them in shock.

He could hear Mohinder shift in his seat in confusion.

"A watch shop?" Mohinder echoed.

His mind zoomed back to the endearingly cute watch maker who he had fun teasing while his watch got repaired. Mohinder glanced back down at the name, Gabriel Gray, and his mind went back to the breathy name said by that man.

"You…You're the watchmaker?"

Gabriel nodded then realized that Mohinder wouldn't be able to see. "Yes, I…Yes."

He heard Mohinder laugh in disbelief and shivered in delight at the sound.

"That's great!" Mohinder exclaimed and Gabriel's stomach did a flip flop. "I never even knew and you were right there! I can't believe it!"

Mohinder saw his father look in his direction curiously, but he just waved him off.

"I…uh…Can we get together?" Gabriel's timid question made Mohinder's grin spread wider.

"Of course. I'd love to." Mohinder was very eager to see Gabriel because he had been too busy to go see him again.

Gabriel's mind froze when Mohinder said that line. Someone actually wanted to see him again. Gabriel had been hopeful, but he had been reluctant to entertain those thoughts because never before had anyone shown real interest in him. A random gorgeous stranger kissing him had seemed like a fluke, unreal.

"When are you free? Now?" Mohinder tapped the pencil excitedly against the phone list.

His father gave him a disgruntled look but he ignored it focusing more on Gabriel's nervous laughter.

"I…Yeah. I'm free." Gabriel sounded happy and Mohinder knew he must look dazzling with a smile and glowing eyes.

"Where do you want to meet?" Mohinder enquired, his tone had taken on a smug tone.

"Uh," Gabriel really couldn't think of anywhere to go because he never went out unless for groceries or work.

"Where do you live?" Gabriel couldn't even think of his own address, which was embarrassing.

"I don't know." Mohinder almost laughed at how lost Gabriel sounded.

He knew that now Gabriel must have a red blush spread across his face and was probably searching the room for any sign of an address written down.

"Let's meet at your watch shop." Mohinder suggested.

"Yes. That'll work."

"I'll see you in a little while Gabriel." Gabriel started to think he loved hearing his name now.

He never used to like such a plain, boring name but it sounded incredible rolling off of Mohinder's tongue.

"Okay." Gabriel sighed when the other line clicked and leaned against the wall.

Mohinder stood up and stretched, grabbing his jacket from the back of the chair.

"Where are you going?" Chandra, his father, asked.

"To meet a friend," Mohinder replied, shrugging casually.

His father turned back to his computer program and Mohinder headed for the door, grabbing 'Activating Evolution' to show Gabriel.

Gabriel was a ball of nerves as he paced inside his shop. The thought of meeting Mohinder hadn't actually settled in until he was at the shop and now he was very nervous. He didn't know what to do or say to the other man because Gabriel's mind wasn't working.

Mohinder paused outside the store window, grinning at Gabriel's distraught expression. He had an idea that the other man wasn't really used to people relationships, his honest reactions during their first meeting convinced Mohinder of Gabriel's inexperience. There was something oddly pleasing about being Gabriel's first and maybe only lover.

The chime of the door made Gabriel whirl around, about to practice his rehearsed greeting except his breath caught at the sight of Mohinder's smile.

"Hello Gabriel." Mohinder grinned at him and Gabriel felt as though he were melting from the brightness.

"Hi." Was the only response Gabriel could offer.

Mohinder had to fight back his laughter at Gabriel's wide-eyed reaction to his own greeting. He moved forward and rested his hand on Gabriel's shoulder, gently guiding his unresisting body out the door.

"Do you like coffee?"

Gabriel seemed to puzzle over the question carefully, his brows knotting together cutely.

Gabriel was trying to unstuck his mind, but it wasn't working when he could only focus on that warm hand on his shoulder.

"Yes?" He answered slowly.

Mohinder chuckled and he trembled slightly, with Mohinder obviously noticing due to his satisfied smile.

"Good, we can talk while drinking some tea."

Mohinder contained his laughter when he heard the confused question he predicted.

"Didn't you say coffee first?" Gabriel was actually listening to him and not entirely brain dead due to infatuation.

"I did." Mohinder admitted, stopping Gabriel before he walked into the middle of the street. "Just checking your hearing."

Gabriel felt his face heat up in embarrassment. He was going to ask where they were going but he noticed to teenage girls glancing their way and giggling. Gabriel started feeling self-conscious and he glanced down at his shoes, shifting nervously. He was painfully aware of Mohinder's warm hand now.

Mohinder squeezed Gabriel's shoulder and let it go when he noticed they were getting laughed at by some teenage girls. He grinned pleased when they squealed about how good looking a couple the two of them made. Gabriel kind of hunched in on himself, which was adorable and Mohinder laughed.

Gabriel couldn't fight that small smile spreading across his face at Mohinder's cheerful laughter. The other man didn't seem at all worried at other people staring at them. Feeling a little bold, Gabriel shyly curled his fingers around Mohinder's dangling hand and waited in great anticipation for Mohinder's to react.

A sudden warm grip on Mohinder's hand made him smile. He squeezed Gabriel's large fingers and pulled him along to a café he had taken to visiting. Mohinder was glad that he didn't live very far from Gabriel's shop.

"You don't mind this place do you?" He asked, nudging Gabriel.

Gabriel, who had been solely focusing on their interlocked hands, glanced up at the unfamiliar building.

"I don't mind." He replied hesitantly.

Gabriel felt disappointment when Mohinder let go of his hand, then embarrassment when he held the door open. He shuffled in and glanced around the cozy room curiously.

Mohinder followed Gabriel into the store and watched him as he examined the place. He seemed to have frozen again, totally clueless as to what to do, so Mohinder took control.

"Table for two," Mohinder told the patiently waiting waitress.

He noticed her checking Gabriel out but he was oblivious.

The waitress sat them down at a table kind of out of the way, which Gabriel was glad for. Mohinder ordered two mugs of hot chocolate for them and Gabriel was puzzled why he didn't order tea. He was going to question Mohinder but his voice died in his throat.

Mohinder grinned when he saw Gabriel visibly gulp as their eyes met, before he looked shyly away.

"So, you never answered my question." Mohinder started by ways of conversation.

At Gabriel's puzzled stare, he placed his father's book before him and watched Gabriel hesitantly open it to read the introduction.

Gabriel tried focusing on reading, but he could feel Mohinder's stare on his and the paragraph before him blurred.

"This is…uh…Interesting." He commented, after reading the same sentence over four times.

Mohinder leaned forward and rested his head on the palm of his hand, raising an eyebrow. "You weren't reading."

Gabriel looked ashamed at being caught and Mohinder felt his heart tug in his chest. He had to laugh though because all of Gabriel's actions were cute and charming.

"It took me a while to understand all this." Mohinder gestured to the book. "But I think you have an ability."

Gabriel sat up straighter with curiosity. "Really? Why?"

Mohinder smiled into his hand as he replied. "The way you fixed my watch."

Gabriel blinked in surprise for he couldn't see how that was a power obtained through evolution.

"That's not…special." He replied slowly, feeling his momentary excitement sink into dread.

Mohinder sat straight, watching as Gabriel seemed to deflate into himself after having perked up so brightly a moment before.

"That is special. You think I can listen to a watch and know exactly what the problem is?" He was frustrated with how people seemed oblivious to their own talents.

Gabriel flinched at the harsh tone and saw Mohinder's face soften.

"Sorry." Mohinder sighed.

"I…That hearing thing was something my father could do too." Gabriel offered, trying to justify to himself why he shouldn't get his hopes up high.

He had given up dreaming of being different, special, long ago.

Mohinder sat forward interested. "Your father could do it too?"

His father had come up with the formula, but Mohinder had suggested that family ties may be involved. He just needed to find some proof of it to make his father accept it.

"Yes, that's why I started trying it."

"So does it have to do with hearing? Or can you find problems in other things? Did your mom do anything like it?" Mohinder rambled on into a bunch of other questions that overwhelmed Gabriel.

He sat dazed, watching as Mohinder seemed to become more energetic as he talked on.

Mohinder stopped asking questions when he saw that Gabriel wasn't following, he was staring at Mohinder in a daze. The waitress came and deposited the hot chocolate, giving Mohinder a wink as she walked off. Mohinder smiled, drinking deeply, then moved forward to tap Gabriel's forehead and wake him up.

"You shouldn't zone out. I might do bad things." Mohinder's voice invaded Gabriel's ear and he blushed at the implications of the words.

Gabriel stared at the table to hide his blush and noticed a mug of hot chocolate had appeared.

"When did…" His voice trailed off as Mohinder chuckled.

"Am I really so attractive that you can't even focus?" Mohinder jokingly wondered aloud.

He laughed harder as Gabriel turned an even deeper shade of red and nearly choked on his drink.

"I kid. Don't die on me now." Mohinder patted Gabriel's hand and snickered when his hand shot back.

"You're adorable." Gabriel heard as he got his breathing back under control.

Gabriel wasn't in the mood to drink his hot chocolate anymore because his tongue and throat had gotten burned. He took interest in the book after being unable to think of any reply to Mohinder's statement about him.

Mohinder was quite sure if he kept trying he could have Gabriel's face in a permanent blush. The watchmaker was now actively ignoring his presence using the book as an excuse. He didn't know why, but it was just too gleeful and tempting to tease poor Gabriel all the time.

"What if I'm not…" Gabriel's words were cut off as Mohinder launched forward in his seat to latch his lips onto Gabriel's.

Mohinder trailed his tongue along reddened lips and felt Gabriel's mouth open in shock. That warm, chocolate sweet tongue invaded Gabriel's mouth and he lost himself in feeling.

Mohinder pulled away slowly from the kiss when he heard a startled gasp, followed by a fit of giggles. Their waitress from earlier was trying to suppress her laughter and blush behind dainty, manicured hands. Gabriel looked positively horrified and extremely kissable with his slightly reddened lips, and Mohinder smirked.

"Check please." Mohinder asked charmingly while Gabriel buried his head into his hands in humiliation.

He had been totally caught off guard and now knew that Mohinder was having fun teasing him if that smug smirk was anything to go by.

"You're evil." Gabriel was confused by his own giddiness.

Mohinder ruffled Gabriel's already messed up locks and grinned cheekily at the half-hearted glare sent his way.

"I think I love you." Gabriel whispered in shock.

Mohinder couldn't fight off the wave of pleasure issued from that statement. He leaned forward as if to exchange an important secret as well.

"I think I love you too." Was huskily whispered in Gabriel's ear and he shivered in the pleasure from it.

The waitress returned, not able to keep herself from giggling and Gabriel couldn't look at her but he could see she was trying to catch his eyes as Mohinder paid.

"Let's go to your place." Mohinder he followed Gabriel out of the café.

Gabriel sent him a curious glance and blushed at the devilish smirk that Mohinder let spread across his face.

"O…Okay." Gabriel replied with his customary stutter, but his steps were more urgent, telling Mohinder of Gabriel's need.

Gabriel had barely unlocked his door when Mohinder attacked him with strategic hands and burning lips. He vaguely remembered his thoughts from earlier that morning and felt how foolish they were now. There was no way his imagination could have cooked up something as real as Mohinder and his lips.

* * *

A/N: Out of Mind will be updated tomorrow(for withoutpermission)...when I'll be able to think again after pounding my brain over analyzing The Fountainhead by Ayn Rand. 


	11. Mylar, Plaude, and AU Mylar

**A/N: **Yay!

* * *

1. After the phonecall 

Mohinder stared at the phone resting in his limp hands. He couldn't believe how stupid it was that he tried calling the cops. Mohinder sighed in frustration when a betraying thought told him that he knew the cops wouldn't be able to do anything to Sylar. He should have tried calling Thompson or maybe just talked things through with Sylar. It wasn't his fault that his heart skipped a beat when he heard Sylar's voice, or that his mind couldn't work past the fact that it was Sylar on the other line. He was not forgotten, Mohinder was still needed.

* * *

2. During Peter's conversation with Claire. 

Peter wanted Claire to stay, he knew she was needed. Everyone was needed in order to stop the bomb. That's why he was given those visions and that message. They needed to save the world. Peter wouldn't let himself admit that he was only using Claire as a distraction. That he was lonely without Claude around and Claire's sunny bright smiles chased away his loneliness, if only for awhile. Those thoughts were horrible and if he dwelled on them, they bleed through into his face telling the world of his dark emotions. Peter used other excuses to keep her around.

* * *

3. AU with Mohinder drunk and meeting Gabriel. 

"I'm Gabriel Gray." A stranger said in greeting as he slipped into the seat next Mohinder.

Mohinder had needed to get away from his father and their arguments over theories, so he ended up in an all-American bar.

"Hello." He replied back, voice slightly slurred and eyes not really focused.

The man flashed him a blurry smile, catching Mohinder before he could slide out of his seat.

"Looks like you've had one too many, buddy." Gabriel's hands were large and warm, feeling good on feverish skin.

"S'not too much." Mohinder answered back glowering at Gabriel's shoulder. "I still thinkin'. Too much thinkin'."

The deep, throaty chuckle made Mohinder laugh as well, because it sounded so jolly and good. He wanted to feel the same.

"I can help you stop if you want." The suggestion was hesitant, making Mohinder's mind realize this man wasn't experienced, but his strong hands felt eager enough.

"Sure." Mohinder drawled, falling out of his seat while standing and being caught by the warm large body. "Le's have at it!"

Gabriel laughed again and half dragged Mohinder over towards the entrance, feeling as giddy as the drunken man's laughter sounded.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Early in the morning Chandra glanced up from his program and saw that Mohinder wasn't sleeping at his own desk spot. He shrugged and figured his son had decided to use the bedroom for once. Chandra had no idea that his son was half way across the city screaming his lungs out in ecstasy for Gabriel.

* * *


	12. Life of Gabriel

A/N: I think I'll expand on this later... This is not slash. Gabriel's life before becoming Sylar and the **events of episode 21.**

* * *

In kindergarten Gabriel learned how to spell his full name. The words were scraggly, some letters backwards, but it gave him an identity to see it on the white, blue-striped paper. Gabriel took the paper to his daddy and his large, strong hands ruffled Gabriel's carefully parted hair. Gabriel grinned from ear to ear and ran off to show his mommy. Mommy smiled and gave him a big kiss before Gabriel shoved the paper before her. Mommy's smiled twitched and a bubble of laughter escaped her. 

"The letters are backwards Gabriel." She smoothed his hair in her loving, gentle hands.

Gabriel felt ashamed and went to his room to practice writing over and over and over again, until his little hands were sore, in order to get the letters right.

* * *

In grade four Gabriel got top marks on his spelling bee. He came home with his vested chest puffed out, showing off the golden star. Gabriel climbed clumsily into his chair to watch his daddy work on a clock. Gabriel loved watching his daddy piece the parts together. His mommy came in with the groceries and paused at the sight of Gabriel watching his father work and frowned just a little. 

"You got top in the spelling bee? That's fantastic!" She held his small grimy hands. "There're so many things you can be. You'll be special when you grow up!"

Gabriel sat in aw on her knee as she listed all the jobs and all the places in the world he would one day travel to. His father just continued working on his clock.

* * *

In grade six his father showed him how to build his first watch. It took him six whole months of careful tutoring to get the pieces to look even close to what his father's watches look like. Gabriel never had to be taught again. 

"You really do have a talent for this." His father rumbled voice hoarse and awkward due to lack of use.

The warm hand carding through Gabriel's meticulously combed hair was the only sign of silent approval Gabriel needed. He was glowing with pride for days.

* * *

Grade eight was a horrible year. The boys and girls ignored Gabriel, so he spent most of his time at his father's shop. His mother would sit waiting for them to return and would always peck Gabriel's father on the cheek and then scrub Gabriel's oiled hands clean. 

"Fixing watches again? That's a fine hobby to have honey, but shouldn't Gabriel be playing with his friends? It's not right to force him to work for you." She'd say while fixing Gabriel's hair and smoothing her hands across his reddened cheeks.

"I like fixing watches." Gabriel would reply, while his father went to his corner to read.

"Well, if Gabriel likes it..." His mother would trail off and then go to dust her three snow globes, gifts from her great Aunt who Gabriel never met but heard about all the time.

* * *

Gabriel had a routine when he was in grade ten. His father had gotten ill and so he ran the shop from three in the afternoon until eleven o'clock at night. Finishing watch repair projects, starting new ones, and barely finishing his homework on time. 

He came home one day entirely exhausted and found a wrapped package on his bed. Tearing the brown paper Gabriel gasped as he recognized the various parts within the box.

"Happy Birthday" His father's beautiful calligraphy was scrawled onto a single note.

Gabriel's had always wanted to construct a German old-style watch. Gabriel could barely sit through his mother's birthday supper because he was bouncing with eagerness to begin.

"Oh you met a girl!" His mother cooed, mistaking his excitement for her dreams. "What's she like? Oh, she must be perfect for my darling angel Gabriel. He can hardly get the food in his mouth."

Her sugary words and cake almost dampened the mood, but a wink from his father kept him going.

* * *

Father's death was not unexpected, but it still hurt Gabriel a lot. He had gotten the news from a letter talking about his father's will a week after his death. Gabriel called his mother to see if she was okay. 

"Hi Mom."

"Oh! Gabriel? How are you? It's been such a wonderful day; I really love the snow globe you bought me. How was Florida? It wasn't to warm for you was it?" Her bubbly voice invaded Gabriel's ears and he wanted to scream for her to shut up.

She couldn't even mourn for the one who took care of her over the years. When he went to the funeral a day later, she was in her prime. Telling jokes with the neighbors, cooing on and on about Gabriel, never once mentioning her departed husband.

The funeral was too elaborate for the silent, sturdy man who worked on watches day by day all of Gabriel's life. Barely anyone came to the church ceremony, only a couple of devoted customers who went through watches by the month. The amount of money used to hold the funeral lost Gabriel's mother her home. She moved into a small apartment with her snow globes.

"You'll get a real job, Gabriel. You can do anything you want. You can travel the world. You can see many places. You're so special my Gabriel." Her small, worn hands weren't so warm anymore.

* * *

Staring at her lifeless corpse, the warm blood cooling on his fingers, Gabriel couldn't find it in himself to cry anymore tears. His mother never cried for his father, so why was he crying for her? 

The power, so familiar, so special invaded Sylar's mind and he began to draw. He didn't need paint; his mother was all so willing to provide the sources he needed.

"I will be president. I will be special. Sylar will be the most special of all." Sylar chanted as he drew, grinning wickedly as the last tears dried on his face.

* * *


	13. Plaude and Mylar

A/N: Was bored in class. First is Peter exploding, second is kind of a continuation of Mohinder in Wonderland, third is Isaac's impossible solution to saving the world, and last is Nathan getting angry... PeterClaude, GabrielMohinderSylar, MohinderSylar, PeterClaude

* * *

1. Exploding Man 

The burning of his hands, the flashes of visions before his eyes, and everything fell apart. Peter was burning, his hands glowing, his body temperature rising as it tried to release the heat.

_Heat, Flame, Explosion!_

His mind trailed off to hot sweaty nights entangled in sheets with rough, possessive nails clawing at his healing skin.

_Claude, save me_!

The continuous mantra in his head as he tries to will the heat away, to stop.

_No! Claude!_

Peter is failing, his hands are brighter, his skin is warmer, and his vision red.

_Love you…_

Peter explodes before that thought ends.

* * *

2. Night after the Halloween Party (Mohinder in Wonderland) 

Mohinder opened sleepy eyes when Gabriel shifted against him, cuddling deeper into his neck. Sylar growled deep in his throat and swatted Gabriel's wandering hand from tickling Mohinder's stomach.

"Stop that Gabe." Sylar muttered into Mohinder's sleep mussed locks, pulling the naked warm body closer to his own, dragging Gabriel along as well.

"Mmm…" Gabriel hummed in response, the sound vibrating against Mohinder's chest causing him to chuckle.

Sylar's warm breath swept past his ear as he leaned closer to suckle on the marks he left the night before. Mohinder moaned and leaned into the touch while pulling Gabriel's head up into a kiss. Gabriel held his face gently as he allowed Mohinder to dominate his mouth while Sylar began marking him, property, once more.

* * *

3. The impossible solution (Isaac's POV) 

Isaac stared at the painting before him, confused. It was the way to stop Sylar, the way to save the world, but it seemed like an impossible feat. He could think of no way on which he'd ever convince Mohinder to do this. Isaac could think of many ways on which to convince Mohinder to come to his flat on the day Sylar came for the painter's ability. That was the easy part. Isaac just couldn't fathom any way he could get the doctor to come unarmed, unclothed, and wearing a dog collar with 'property of Sylar' engraved on it. It was an impossible feat and Mohinder probably would just think Isaac was crazy for trying to suggest it. Saving the world would be challenging.

* * *

4. 

Nathan didn't mind Claude, most of the time. The man was strong, down to earth, and overly paranoid which kept Peter from doing really stupid things. There was one thing Nathan didn't like about Claude's invisibility.

"Not this again!" Nathan roared as he stepped into the dining room in time to see the table cloth and bowl of fruits fall to the floor.

He couldn't see them, but he was pretty sure Peter was blushing hard, holding Claude's shoulders and looking thoroughly embarrassed.

"Will you two get a room? I have guests waiting in the lobby." Nathan lowered his voice to a menacing hiss, watching some chairs move as Peter dragged his boyfriend, hopefully, out of the room.

Nathan really didn't want a repeat of last time when Claude decided to take his brother in Nathan's office while he was having a very important meeting. That was when Peter was still having difficulties controlling his ability when emotional. It had not been very fun trying to explain why Peter suddenly appeared out of nowhere with his pants around his ankles.

* * *


	14. DrunkGabriel and Mohinder

A/N: I have a lot of homework and I wrote this during my break from pounding my head into the textbook. It's Gabriel getting drunk...prob. not very realistic at all but I was bored. I wrote Mohinder drunk...so I might as well write Gabriel drunk too...it's a little longer than what I was aiming for...(shrug)

* * *

The buzz in his mind made it difficult for Gabriel to think straight. He didn't know why he agreed to go to this strange bar in the first place, but the customer insisted once he returned the newly repaired watch. 

"Since you don't want money, I'll buy you a drink." The jiggling chin of the obese stranger roared, as he gripped Gabriel's skinny arm with meaty fingers.

The massive size of skin, muscle, and bones wouldn't take no for an answer and Gabriel soon found himself sitting on a bar stool of some dimly lit, disco lighted bar with blaring music and half dressed girls. His fatty customer ordered some random drink after forcing Gabriel onto his chair and the drink was shoved into his hands before an excuse why he had to leave could be thought up.

The drink was fruity, with the horrible burning aftertaste of rum and made Gabriel's sweet-conditioned mouth gag. After the first couple of sips, and the slapping hand with exuberant laughter ringing his ears, Gabriel felt no reason to complain.

"Aren't these young gals beautiful?" The beefy man called, spilling his drink all over Gabriel's knitted sweater.

Gabriel's drunken grin and giddy laughter at the mess was all the response he could supply. He was dizzy, hot, and completely drunk unable to clearly see the blurry dancers move across the floor. A shadow of a man moved into Gabriel's eye sight and sat down over to his right.

Gabriel wavered on his seat, turning to see this new stranger but ended up spilling his drink on him instead. Feeling his face heat up in an even deeper red blush, the original was from too many drinks of maybe about four or five fruity concoctions.

"Sorry!" Gabriel slurred using his sweater, which he had removed after the third drink, to try and mop up the mess.

A honey-gold chuckle entered his ears as Gabriel nearly toppled into the man in his drunken state.

"It's all right." The smooth, clipped accent of the man entered smoothly into Gabriel's brain, numbing all the receptors and lighting his skin on fire.

Gabriel turned hazy eyes up to meet mirthful brown eyes and a blinding white smile that flashed eerily with the lights of the room. Gabriel blinked to try and steady the image of two mouths before his eyes and felt a meaty arm drip across his shoulder.

"Who're you?" His drinking companion demanded, his words slurring and drink dribbling from his fat lips. "What d'ya want with my buddy?"

A queasy sickness invaded Gabriel stomach at the stench of alcohol in the warm breath so close to his face and the possessive tone. He tried to wriggle out of the clamping weight on his back, but his body barely moved an inch. The exotic creature sat indifferently, his lips pulled into a tight frown, as his multiple eyes stared down the fattened beast holding Gabriel down.

The beefy stranger grunted and moved off of Gabriel's back and shoved him forward into his savior. He waddled off leaving a dazed Gabriel lying in the lap of another stranger.

"Let's get out of here." That voice sent jolts of electricity up Gabriel's spine and he leaned heavily on the man, inhaling his scent, while his feet removed to function properly.

Gabriel laughed jollily as the lights caused spots to dance around his vision and he tried reaching out to grab the glowing orbs, only to be pulled back into strong warm arms.

"Careful now," The voice admonished. "Don't want you getting hurt."

"Okay!" Gabriel exclaimed in a sing song voice and he wrapped his arms eagerly around the golden neck almost tripping the other man with his weight.

"Whoa!" They stumbled a bit into the wall near the entrance; Gabriel banged his head rather loudly on the wall.

He rubbed at the sore spot, giggling insanely and let himself be pulled through the door out into the cold nippy air.

"I think you've had too many to drink." The man stated, as he forced Gabriel into an up-right position from almost falling over once more.

"No!" Gabriel pouted, swaying on his feet and squinting carefully at the other man. "Gabriel never drinks."

"Gabriel? Is that your name?"

"Gabriel is a good boy. God's little angel. Never drinks, never fights, always perfect." Gabriel sang as he twirled around and fell down while giggling. "He fixes watches."

The stranger stared down at him where he sat on the ground and sighed while pulling out a cell phone.

"I'm going to be late getting home." He told the device and Gabriel crawled forward, using the man's body to pull himself up to reach for the funny toy.

The man hung up and hid the phone somewhere within his coat. Gabriel started pawing after it, but the man forced him away with his arms on Gabriel's shoulders.

"Where do you live Gabriel?" He asked, fighting to keep Gabriel's eager hands away.

"Here or there or everywhere!" Gabriel replied and burst out laughing at his joke.

The man's face was not amused and he turned away rubbing his face irritated. Gabriel cried out in alarm worried his new friend would leave him.

"Close! Gabriel lives that way!" He called, stumbling forward to grip the man's jacket.

Gabriel hugged him tightly, feeling warm salty tears roll down his eyes even though he felt really happy, not sad at all.

"Close by?" The man asked hesitantly, his body stiffening from the awkwardness of getting hugged.

Gabriel nodded at the back of his neck and started dragging the man backwards towards his apartment. "Home, home, home, home, Gabriel is going home!"

The man couldn't remove Gabriel's grip from the back of his jacket, but he was able to twist around in it to see where they were going to prevent the few times Gabriel walked into the night life traffic. Gabriel wasted the time singing songs about clocks ticking and ringing bells, not at all worried when loud horns blared at him or having to be pushed out of the way of a car.

The honey tinted man was gripping his arm tightly in an iron hold by the time Gabriel made it to his apartment. Gabriel dragged the man eagerly up to his room, fumbling for his key and having to have the stranger pick his key off the floor and open his door. Gabriel wanted to show off his clocks so he dragged the man through the door while slamming the door behind him.

"Oh!" Gabriel squealed, scrambling towards the first clock he saw and pulling it off the wall. "Gabriel fixed this one when he was twelve! Mommy said he could but he did! Gabriel is a special boy!"

Gabriel shoved the clock into the strangers face, forcing him back into the front door to avoid having it crash into his face. Gabriel removed the clocks cover and started pulling out gears naming each one he learned by heart, laughing when his mouth stumbled over a name.

"This is a…a…" Gabriel giggled as the name evaded his mouth.

He held the object to the strangers meekly smiling face and froze. The stranger's brows twisted in puzzlement as Gabriel leaned forward to examine his face.

"You're very pretty." Gabriel stated, tilting his head sideways to view the face at a different angle and hopefully get it to stop moving.

The golden man sputtered for a response and his face brightened into a blush view barely by the orange glow of the apartment lights. Gabriel moved his hand to stop the lips from moving, they made it difficult to see the face, but he ended smacking the man's cheek lightly instead.

"Oops!" Gabriel exclaimed, giggling madly. "I didn't mean to do that."

Gabriel rubbed the cheek gently and he could feel the stranger's erratic warm breath breeze onto his cheek. The man's hands were gripping his shoulders tightly, but he seemed rather unwilling to push Gabriel away.

"Let me kiss it better." Gabriel closed his eyes, leaning forward to close the short distance between them, and placed a loud, sloppy kiss on the man's cheek.

Gabriel pulled back and giggled at the strange look that spread across the other man's face. Gabriel's hand wandered from the golden cheek and traced over the lines of the strangers brow, down the length of the perfect nose, before settling on slightly parted lips. The stranger place his own hand over Gabriel's and kissed his hand before pulling it away. The stranger leaned forward and devoured Gabriel's lips, drinking in the taste of blueberry cocktail and sweat.

Gabriel moaned at the sensation of another tongue invading his mouth, tracing over his teeth, and dancing against his own tongue. He felt warmer than he had in the bar and he started pulling at the stranger's shirt, wanting to be closer to the other man's body. The rest of the night was a haze of heat, tongue, teeth, and blinding lights. Gabriel screamed his release to the husky encouragements of the exotic man above him. He curled happily against the warm body that collapsed against him and hummed in pleasure, feeling the man shiver next to him.

In the morning he awoke with his head feeling like it had been stampeded on and his bed a little warmer than it was usually. Gabriel stumbled into his kitchen to reach for Tylenol out of the cupboard when he spotted a note that wasn't there before.

'Thanks for the clock lesson, Love Mohinder.' On the back of the note was a phone number that Gabriel had never before seen in his life.

He tried to remember what had gone on the night before but the only images his mind would supply was honey gold skin, burning brown eyes, and a blinding white smile. For the rest of the day Gabriel moved around feeling like a single noise would drive him into the grave but the pain couldn't destroy his foolishly large smile.

* * *

A/N: Not sure if I'll get Out of Mind updated until Tuesday night...I'm drowning in a lot of homework right now... (sigh) 


	15. Ice Cream Trip with Mylar Family

A/N: I had an idea a while ago (last thursday) of Mohinder taking Molly to get ice cream. Tonights episode had Sylar eating ice cream...and yeah...plot bunnies ran away with my mind.

* * *

Molly tightly gripped Mohinder's sweaty hands and she skipped along to his long steady strides. Her long brown hair waved in the wind and she smiled up at the sunlight which illuminated her face. Mohinder couldn't believe that he'd been allowed to bring Molly out to visit a park. 

"Can you push me on the swing?" Her sweet, innocent voice tugged at Mohinder's weary heart and he smiled warmly down at her.

"Of course," He replied, squeezing her hand and delighting in her lively laughter.

At the corner of his eye he could see the black-suited guards split up to probably search the premises for any sign of danger. Mohinder was only allowed to bring Molly out if he allowed the guards to follow him and carried a hand gun on his body at all times. The weapon weighed heavily against his side, but Molly's swinging arms pushed away the bitter memories as she pulled Mohinder forward towards the blue swing set.

Molly moved eagerly onto the blue seat, her legs dangling inches above the ground, and her bright smile warmed Mohinder up from the chilly breeze.

"I want to fly!" Molly squealed as Mohinder swung around the chain to stand behind her and start her with a steady push.

Her musical laughter invaded his senses and Mohinder found himself grinning in joy as well while pushing her higher and higher.

"Higher! Higher!" Molly egged on, swinging her legs mechanically in hopes to achieve more height.

Mohinder pushed with all his might and watched Molly soar, up high into the blue sky and then back towards the ground. He stared in wonder and barely moved to the side in time to avoid a painful collision. Molly's face was alight with joy and she stared up at the blue sky in wonder.

Mohinder leaned against the blue pole watching her swing back and fourth, her hair dancing in the sunlight turning into gold. His breath caught as the young girl glowed like an angel who spread out its wings to soar. He sighed in content and let his eyes drift shut to listen more closely to her beautiful laughter.

"Hey, Dr. Suresh," Molly called and he opened his eyes to watch her pink shoes scrape against the hardened sand. "Can we get some ice cream?"

Her small lips pouted and sparkling eyes begged making it impossible for Mohinder to say no.

"Of course," He smiled warmly, holding out his hand for her to take while hopping off the swing.

Mohinder pulled her along to an ice cream parlor nearby, already forgetting his agreement to only take her to the park. They walked among the crowded street which was full of people heading off to vote. Mohinder hadn't really thought about the election since he met Molly days ago and it seemed so unimportant now that he had a small warm hand within his own.

They entered the partially busy shop and Mohinder leaned down to lift Molly so she could choose a flavor she wanted. Molly cutely pointed out to a variety of flavors, unable to make up her mind.

"Chocolate mint! No wait, I like chocolate chip cookie dough. No, maybe raspberry cheesecake. Umm…bubblegum?" She chewed on her lip, face scrunching in indecision, and Mohinder couldn't keep the grin off his face.

"How about you choose two flavors for me and for yourself and then we can share." He suggested, feeling her body vibrate in excitement.

"Yes!" Molly cheered, squirming out of his grip to turn and give him a hug. "Thank you!"

Mohinder gave a tight squeeze back and turned to talk to the waiting girl employee when a familiar, strong arm hooked around his shoulder.

"Mohinder." The husky, dark voice greeted in his ear causing Mohinder to stiffen and drop his wallet in shock.

Molly jumped back startled when a wallet bounced off her head and turned puzzled eyes up to meet Mohinder's. Her body went rigid, eyes widened, and jaw trembled in fear as she backed away into the counter.

"Boogeyman." She whispered causing Mohinder to want to reach down and comfort the fear out of her trembling body but his own body was frozen by an invisible hold.

"We'll have a double scoop bowl of chocolate mint and cookie dough, a double scoop bowl of raspberry cheesecake and bubble gum, and a plain single bowl of vanilla please." Sylar ordered and Mohinder could feel the grin spread next to his ear as warm breath rained down his neck.

Sylar leaned his weight fully into Mohinder's frozen frame. Mohinder swallowed painfully, willing his body to move but knowing it was impossible with Sylar's grip on his body. His mind was screaming in rage wanting to murder the man who nearly killed him but he also feared what Sylar would do to Molly if he knew what she could do.

Molly stood rooted on the spot, making Mohinder believe she was stuck in Sylar's hold as well. Her body was oddly mechanical as it reached to take the offered bowl of ice cream and place an awkward spoonful to her mouth. The wallet levitated, out of view of the employee, and was placed in Sylar's hand. He paid for their purchases and placed a bowl of ice cream into Mohinder's waiting hands. Sylar thanked the employee cheerfully, his voice oozing with tainted sugar, and pulled Mohinder along with him outside. A flick of the wrist had Molly trailing along after them, spooning ice cream into her protesting, messy mouth.

"Long time no see doctor," Sylar hissed into Mohinder's ear while eating a spoonful of vanilla ice cream and thankfully removing his arm from Mohinder's shoulder. "I missed having you around."

Mohinder bristled at the comment and his eyes spoke murderous rage while his body scooped a spoonful of ice cream into his mouth. He tried to spit it out but his throat refused his mental commands and Mohinder was forced to swallow.

"Pretty interesting young girl you have here." Sylar motioned his hand and Molly moved closer allowing Sylar to run his dirty, tainted hands through her beautiful, long hair. "Those guards were quite useful in informing me as to what little Molly can do."

Sylar laughed pleasantly when he saw fear flash through the trapped man's eyes and he bent down eye level to the trembling girl to pat her cheek.

"You sure are special." The last word came out in a possessive hiss, but his grip remained gentle as he stroked her tearful face. "Yes, very special."

Mohinder took a step forward, realizing he had control over his body once more but stopped when Sylar's murderous eyes flicked to his own and the grip tightened in Molly's hair threateningly. Mohinder dropped his bowl of ice cream to the ground and reached for the gun which was pulled invisibly from his hands and into Sylar's own.

"Don't worry my dear friend. I have no intention of hurting her." Mohinder couldn't bring himself to believe Sylar but he sighed in relief when Molly pulled away from Sylar's hold freely. "I just came by to say 'hi'."

She hopped back and clamped onto Mohinder's leg, her own ice cream falling to the dirt along side Mohinder's. Sylar straightened himself, grinned at them and gave a cocky wave as he turned and walked off while spooning more ice cream into his mouth. Mohinder watched him leave, staring for a long time after he vanished until Molly tugged on his coat.

"Can we go back now?" Her voice contained none of the joy if held before and Mohinder picked her up, holding her close.

"Yes, let's do that." He rubbed soothing circles down her back as he headed back to the company.

Mohinder promised to keep his anger and fear at bay until after Molly was safely in a deep slumber. He could go after Sylar later, now he needed to comfort a scared little angel.

* * *


	16. Shampoo Mylar

A/N: Shampoo...and GabrielMohinder. My mind is really weird today...

* * *

Gabriel leaned forward closer to his recent project. His eyes enlarged and squinted behind his work glasses squinted down at the delicate pieces moving and forming within his large, gentle hands. Each piece had to fit perfectly to make it work.

Gabriel was so focused on his work that he didn't hear Mohinder entering his shop, even with the ringing door. However, he was distracted by a strange perfume wafting around his head and into his nostrils. Gabriel closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, trying to figure out what the familiar smell was.

"Strawberries?" He spoke out loud, leaning back and cracking his stiff neck.

"Yes," Mohinder's voice startled him, "A shampoo I got in the mail."

Gabriel turned his head to stare dazedly at his boyfriend who was shedding his heavy coat and revealing a lean form under a tight button down shirt. Mohinder dropped the jacket carelessly onto the counter and moved to examine Gabriel's work. The scent grew stronger with each step Mohinder took and Gabriel was soon leaning forward to inhale at his neck.

"What are you doing Gabe?" Mohinder asked chuckling while bringing his hands to rest, not push back, on Gabriel's shoulders.

"You smell really nice." Gabriel murmured into the warm, vibrating neck letting his lips trail soft kisses up to the ear.

"I didn't know you liked Strawberries." Mohinder's voice was still laughing, but it had taken on a husky intonation.

"Mmm…" Gabriel hummed and pulled back, his face flushed and grinning. "My grandma used to make me strawberry shortcake when I visited."

"Is that so?" Mohinder pushed Gabriel farther back so his back rested against his work table. "I didn't know that. I'll have to keep it in mind."

Mohinder kissed Gabriel full on the lips, tasting of honey and spiced teas. Mohinder always had an exotic flavor and that mixed with the strawberry shampoo was making Gabriel crazy.

"Shall we head home?" Mohinder's breathless voice suggested as Gabriel's warm hand began roaming his body up under the back of his shirt.

"Yes." Gabriel moaned, grateful to not have the table imbedded into his back but also mournful when Mohinder moved away to retrieve his jacket.

"Let's go." Mohinder held out his hand, which was eagerly taken into Gabriel's warm grip. "It's a good thing you live close."

Gabriel mentally agreed, walking close to Mohinder to continue inhaling that wonderful, familiar smell.

* * *


	17. Cake After Having Nightmares

A/N: Well...I continued a bit from the Ice Cream fic making this completely AU due to it not following the Heroes timeline. I don't think it's of the same quality because I forced myself to write this whereas the other one mostly wrote itself (if that makes any sense).

* * *

Mohinder sat exhausted at his work station nursing a mug of lukewarm tea and rubbing vigorously at his eyes. He knew that Molly would be having nightmares soon; she had been having them for the last few days. Mohinder was no longer allowed to take her out anymore or even leave the building himself. The company explained it was for their protection, but Mohinder knew it was because they were worried because Sylar had almost gotten Molly before. 

Mohinder turned around in his swivel chair and watched Molly's small eyes quiver with R.E.M sleep. She had been extremely restless an hour before, shifting continuously and muttering nonsense. Mohinder had been worried she wouldn't get any restful sleep at all but she had settled down, setting him about worrying over the dreams he knew would come.

The first whimper, a thunderous sound only because the room was so silent, made Mohinder jump. He rose swiftly, if not a little clumsily, from his chair and wondered into the room to run his hand through Molly's long locks. Molly turned in her bed and reached blindly at the air fighting off unseen demon.

"Shhh, it's okay." Mohinder soothed quietly, continuing his petting motions like he remembered his mother did to him. "Nothing is here to hurt you Molly."

"Ngh…" Molly moaned and quivered, slapping out at Mohinder's hand. "Boogeyman, go away!"

Mohinder paused startled at being hit and then his drowsy mind reminded him, as it did every night that Sylar had done the exact thing he was doing days before. Those dirty, murderous hands had gently caressed her face and ran hands through her hair forever tainting the loving gestures Mohinder had been fond of giving sweet Molly.

_"Don't worry my dear friend. I have no intention of hurting her."_ Sylar's words echoed in Mohinder's mind and he clenched his free hand in anger.

"It's okay Molly. I'll protect you." Mohinder breathed, moving away and enclosing his right one over the paper star within his right breast pocket. "I promise you that."

Mohinder waited by Molly's side until her nightmare subsided and then moved back to empty the cold tea from his cup. He removed the star from his pocket and stared at the crumpled, fading picture wishing it really could protect him. Mohinder knew it was only a matter of time before Sylar came back and that time may be when he desired Molly's gift. What use would Mohinder's list be if he had the power to search people out all to himself.

_"You sure are special. Yes, very special." _

Sylar had been way too interested in Molly for Mohinder's liking. It was still confusing as to why Sylar hadn't done anything when he had the chance, but with his powers he really didn't need to rush things. He proved he could come at anytime he pleased and that thought left Mohinder feeling dread.

He sat heavily in his chair, sighing bitterly at the thought, and tried to do some more company work assigned him as a distraction. The patterned formula's before his eyes were starting to fade and blur before all Mohinder knew was the comforts of the back of his eyelids. His body relaxed and fell forward onto the table, resting over a paper golden star.

His work-tired mind was too lazy to form real dreamlike effects, so flashes of images danced before Mohinder's vision. Images of tea cups, green patterned lines, blood, and the overpowering sound of Sylar's laughter. Mohinder cringed in his sleep, clenching his hands as he felt invisible ones take hold of his body and throw him to the ceiling. The glaring, wolfish grin invaded his vision and Mohinder wanted to screech in fury, unable to destroy the man holding him back.

Mohinder was awoken from his nightmare by the sobbing voice and clenching hands on his shoulder. Molly's face was tearful and her lips trembling as she rambled on in a high, screechy voice about her dream.

"The Boogeyman was waiting for him! He flipped the truck over and ripped open the door! The exploding man couldn't fight back he was in chains! Now the Boogeyman has another power! He wants to explode the city!" Molly sobbed, shaking in Mohinder's warm arms that had reached out in comfort.

"Shh! It's okay Molly. The Boogeyman wouldn't do that." Mohinder whispered soothingly, resting his head on Molly's own.

Molly pushed away and stared into Mohinder's eyes worriedly. "He will. He even said so. He was on a building playing with the exploding man's powers."

Mohinder remember back to the phone call he had earlier that week. His blood chilled in his veins and his grip slackened on Molly's shoulders. He stared blankly at the wall, his drowsy mind going over the words.

_"An apocalypse. A massacre. Half the city gone in an instant."_

Molly tugged on his arm, pulling him out of the memory. She had stopped crying and stared up at him with a drying face, biting her lip nervously.

"Can I stay up with you?" Her voice was so piteous and scared that Mohinder found himself nodding, though his mind argued that little girls needed to get lots of rest.

"Yes," Mohinder replied, squeezing her shoulder warmly. "I think you've had enough sleep. Let's do some coloring now."

Mohinder led Molly back to her desk and pulled out some paper with crayons mechanically. Once he had her seated happily drawing pictures of rainbows, he moved over to the little fridge and pulled out two cut pieces of strawberry shortcake. He had requested them the day before, sneaking them in while Molly had her bath, and was planning on using them to cheer Molly up after a nightmare.

"Dr. Suresh? I don't need to take my medicine right now, I took it four hours ago." Molly stated, worrying because Mohinder used the refrigerator to store her IV there.

"Oh, you sure you don't want this medicine?" Mohinder asked, turning around grinning when Molly's eyes widened.

"Cake!" She squealed, hopping up from her seat and running forward giggling. "When did you get that?"

"I snuck it in for you." Mohinder replied, holding it out of her reach. "But if you don't want it…"

Mohinder trailed off and laughed at Molly's cute protests. He relinquished the dessert to the dancing young girl and watched her mostly inhale it. The food Molly usually ate was bland and she delighted in eating whatever sweets Mohinder could sneak in for her.

"Feeling better?" Mohinder asked while swiping some frosting off Molly's cheek as she emptied the plate.

"Yes, thank you!" The cake filled teeth smile warmed Mohinder's heart and he directed Molly over to the bathroom to brush her teeth.

He picked at his own cake, not feeling very hungry and eventually decided to store it away for future use. Molly came skipping out of the bathroom and seated herself in the chair, full of sugar and happy words chasing away the nightmares hold.

Mohinder sat watching her, smiling when she looked up, but frowning deeply when her vision was elsewhere. He worried about what Sylar would do, hoping that the dream wasn't true but Molly's power was strong enough to even work while sleeping. She probably had been watching Sylar the whole time and he probably was standing on some building right at the moment contemplating blowing up the world.

"Dr. Suresh, come see my picture." Molly motioned over and Mohinder couldn't fight the grin from his face when the beautiful girl smiled at him.

"Okay." He joined her in drawing, hoping to chase away his nightmares as well.

* * *

A/N: I don't think there's going to be a continuation for this storyline...Unless next Heroes ep. has a lot of inspiration. Or maybe I'll write a drabble on Sylar's thoughts about the meeting...Hmm... 


	18. Mohinder Drawing

A/N: More AU Molly and Mohinder.

* * *

Mohinder played with the little tiny star waiting anxiously for Molly to return. Thompson had appeared in the early hours of the morning, slipping in while Mohinder slept, and left a note saying she'd be back after noon. For most of the morning Mohinder had moved around lazily, straightening and then messing up the room in order to have something to do. 

He hadn't really noticed how much of an impact the cute, little girl Molly had on him. Mohinder had grown used to being pulled away from his research to view multiple drawings, which he showered with praise before getting dragged into drawing too. Molly was a much better artist than he was, she could draw people well and match colors perfectly. Mohinder could barely get his stick people dressed without Molly interfering and taking over.

Mohinder stood organizing the stacks of paper, his little star still in hand, and a smile spread across his face as he glanced down at a portrait of himself. Molly had him dressed as a doctor, with a stethoscope and lab jacket, making Mohinder chuckle warmly under his breath. Mohinder remembered that Molly drew this the day after meeting him while she was lying in bed and she had beamed with pride at his compliments.

Molly was such a curious, bright young girl. She liked to ask questions only to giggle while Mohinder rambled on and on in his complicated explanations. She was always lively and happy even though she was locked into a single room for most of the week, let out only to have exams done on her. Mohinder knew he probably would have gone insane if he was forced into the lifestyle Molly had to endure; he loved the outdoors and sunlight too much.

The clock on the wall was still half an hour away from noon and Mohinder was getting restless. He sighed at his worrying over Molly and went to fix himself a cup of coffee. It took forever for the water to boil but Mohinder distracted himself with tracing the star with his forefinger and thumb. He felt comforted while doing so and Molly always smiled at him when she watched him do this. Anything that made Molly happy made him happy as well and she seemed to enjoy giving him presents.

All the presents Molly gave him were the drawing kind. She gave him pictures of them at the beach, building sandcastles in the sand while ocean waves crashed against shore and the sun shone brightly in the sky. Molly had also drawn him a picture of the two of them camping which Mohinder liked it a lot because his figure had ended up burning the food on the fire. He could imagine himself doing that in reality because Mohinder wasn't an overly good cook to begin with.

Feeling a little down with Molly's absense, Mohinder filled his mug with hot boiling and watched the instant coffee swirl around. He moved over to Molly's little work desk and sat down within her chair, placing the star next to his coffee carefully to the side so it wouldn't get lost. Reaching for some paper and well worn crayons, Mohinder started drawing little pictures like he had watched Molly draw for the past week.

He drew a picture of them riding a merry-go-round, Molly in an adorable pink dress and him in jeans and a red sweater. Mohinder pictured that Molly would probably want to ride on a yellow horse, rather than a boring old white or a common black stead. He'd either sit on a black horse or stand beside Molly laughing along with her own melodious laughter. Mohinder could almost hear the merry-go-round music in his mind as he drew in blurry figures riding on other horses.

The picture was by far the best one Mohinder had ever drawn, but as he stared down at it, he couldn't help but feel something missing. He glanced back at Molly's own two drawings, at the beach and camping, and noticed a detail he never saw before. Within the shadows, always off to the side, there was a black shadow figure watching them. Mohinder stared at it closely, realization sinking in as Mohinder understood exactly why Molly had drawn it in. The boogeyman was what his picture lacked and he turned to his own to draw the black shadow riding three horses behind, on a black steed.

When he finished the picture, the door opened up and Molly came running in with Thompson smirking behind her.

"Dr. Suresh!" Molly squealed, hopping into his arms for a great hug. "You weren't bored with me gone, were you?"

"I was very bored." Mohinder answered truthfully while grinning, before staring stonily at Thompson.

"We just had to run some tests. Make sure Molly was healthy again." Thompson stated smugly before waving goodbye and locking the door as he left.

Molly was a ball of energy, shifting in his lap and pulling on Mohinder's shoulders. "What did you do while I was gone?"

Mohinder smiled and turned in his chair, smoothing his hand over his drawing. "I drew pictures."

Molly giggled and leaned forward to see it, running her hands over the figure of herself. "I have such a pretty dress! You did way better this time, even have the colors right!"

Mohinder chuckled, leaning his head on the top of her head as she praised his picture liked he praised her own. Molly's small hand wandered to the other, less defined figures, and paused over the shadow man. She rested her hand there and twisted in Mohinder's lap to look up at meet his eyes.

"You didn't miss him either." She stated solemnly and then turned away before Mohinder could respond.

Molly reached for a clean sheet of paper and wrestled the black crayon out of Mohinder's hand. "It's Halloween now. You get to be a ghost and I'll be a princess."

Molly started drawing another fantasy world and Mohinder understood that the drawings were Molly's way of coping with being cooped up in a single room. She drew these pictures to enjoy the outdoors like Mohinder got to do when he was a little boy.

* * *

A/N: I wrote this randomly... 


	19. Mylar, Late Night Visit

A/N: I really hope Claude appears in the next episode...I need some inspiration for Plaude fanfics...

* * *

1. Why Molly Won't Tell 

Molly sat quietly beside Dr. Suresh's bed, listening to his sleep-talk whispers. She had been aware for awhile that the friendly man was in love with her nightmare terror. He never admitted it to her, but she could see it in his eyes when she talked about the boogeyman. The poor doctor wasn't searching for the boogeyman to kill him, he loved him too much, Mohinder just wanted to see the boogeyman again. The boogeyman was searching for them too. It would be best to let Dr. Suresh go find him first, but Molly didn't want to be alone anymore.

* * *

2. Late Night Visit 

Sylar ran his hand through Molly's locks carefully, careful not to awaken the small child from her slumber. He sat crouched beside her bed, listening to the beating of her heart and thinking how easy it would be to kill her. Sylar didn't want to kill her easily, he wanted a challenge. He spied Mohinder's sleeping frame leaning against the desk and smiled. Sylar was tempted to wake the other man, that would provide the challenge he wanted, but he knew this was the first time Mohinder had slept in days. Sylar would be patient and only watch for now.

* * *

3. Too Sleepy To Notice 

Mohinder woke abruptly from his sleep feeling like something was amiss. His eyes darted around the darkened room but he couldn't spy what was setting him on edge. Molly was sleeping nicely in her bed, not haunted by nightmares tonight, but Mohinder rose from his chair anyways to examine her closely. Her breathing was even and her hair a little tangled, nothing seemed out of place. Mohinder sighed in relief and ran a tired hand across his face and through his hair. He quietly set about doing his research and missed seeing the grinning shadow leaning calmly against the wall.

* * *

4. No Bad Dreams 

Molly woke up running her hand through her hair after feeling imaginary fingers do it all night long. Her dreams had been relatively peaceful, seeing the boogeyman but he wasn't doing anything truly scary. Molly had watched him go to a movie theatre and sit eating popcorn for awhile. He then wandered the streets, whistling a cheerful tune. Nobody had been murdered by him last night and Molly was thankful. She still shivered from the gruesome images decorating her mind, encouraging her imagination. Molly saw Mohinder sleeping at his desk and decided to go wake him, she was feeling hungry.

* * *


	20. Mylar Rainy Day

A/N: It rained today...and it's cold right now...Gabriel got caught in the rain.

* * *

Cold rain trickled down Gabriel's soaking hair and dripped onto his face. He blinked the water out of his eyes and glanced up at the sky for a second to glare. It was just his luck that it'd start raining just after he closed shop for the door. His boyfriend had warned him to bring an umbrella and Gabriel was starting to regret not taking the advice.

Gabriel hopped away from a splash of water as a taxi driver sped by though a large puddle. Swearing under his breath, Gabriel stared down at his soaked jeans and sighed. It looked like he was destined to get home soaked to the bone and freezing. Mohinder probably would have a fit for him dripping water all over the house, but he'd have to live with it because there is no way Gabriel can stay dry now.

Gabriel avoided multiple other car splashes and jogged the rest of the two blocks to his and Mohinder's apartment. They had decided to move in together a couple weeks ago because Mohinder's apartment was closer to his watch shop. Gabriel was very content with the arrangements, though he kind of wished he lived closer now that it was raining out.

Trudging up to the apartment staircase, Gabriel rubbed his hands together to get rid of the chill. He fumbled in his tight, soaked jean pockets for the house key and jammed it in the door. Mohinder usually was too focused on his research to hear Gabriel knock so he had gotten himself a spare key.

Opening the door, he was welcomed by a warm gust of air courtesy of the furnace and Gabriel shrugged off his jacket letting it drop onto the floor. He started shedding off his soaked sweater, struggling a little to get it over his head, and dropped it onto his jacket. A warm, fluffy towel collided with his head and Gabriel heard Mohinder's warm laughter.

"Told you it would rain," Mohinder's smug voice stated while warm, dry arms wrapped around Gabriel's bare skin.

Gabriel grinned and dried his hair a little before turning in the hold to face his boyfriend. "You did."

Mohinder tugged Gabriel's head down to capture his lips in a warm, loving kiss. Gabriel pulled Mohinder closer so he could trail his lips down that golden neck to suck on love bites left from the previous night. Mohinder sighed in pleasure against his shoulder while trailing warm fingers through Gabriel's damp hair.

"You should have a shower." Mohinder murmured, kissing Gabriel's shoulders and pushing the taller man away gently. "You're freezing; I don't want you getting sick."

Gabriel nodded his head in agreement, feeling goose bumps rising on his arms, and he swooped in for another short kiss. "Join me?"

Mohinder blinked, startled for a second at Gabriel's bold suggestion before smiling seductively back and tugging Gabriel towards the bathroom. "Sounds like fun."

Gabriel decided, as Mohinder helped him slide his soaked jeans off, that rainy days were great.

* * *


	21. The Mylar Family Dies

A/N: Umm...I **killed **people today...Just warning you all...

* * *

The cold rain poured down Mohinder's thick brown curls, but he stayed seated on the roadside curb, unwilling to move. His shoulders were shaking, teeth chattering, but the effort it would take to warm himself was more energy than he could spare. Mohinder pulled the small, broken body closer to his chest feeling the racking sobs die out in his throat. Mohinder's eyes burned with unshed tears while he cradled that bloody, half-head in his bloodstained hands. The clicking of heels on the sidewalk behind him did not startle him like the person intended. A strong hand tangled in soaking hair, wrenching Mohinder's head back to look into smirking eyes. Sylar's free hand traced down Mohinder's cheek, but Mohinder stared blindly, seeing nothing and feeling nothing. A warm breath ghosted across Mohinder's wet face before possessive lips claimed his own. A cruel whisper followed that bruising, owning kiss. 

"I win."

* * *

Molly watched silently as Dr. Suresh walked around the tied up and drugged boogeyman. She kept her hands over her ears, as instructed by the doctor before hand, but she couldn't listen and leave her eyes closed too. Molly wanted to watch the boogeyman die. Dr. Suresh had the syringe full, ready to plunge it into the boogeyman's neck, but he hesitated for a moment. Molly wanted to yell out to him to hurry, the boogeyman never stayed trapped for very long, but she was startled from speaking when the doctor leaned in and kissed the man. She watched fascinated, with wide eyes, as the two men kissed and watched as Dr. Suresh plunged the needle in before breaking the contact. The boogeyman breathed his last breath in the doctor's warm mouth before slumping forward dead in his seat. Dr. Suresh turned around, tears cascading from his eyes, and smiled.

* * *

Molly watched from her hiding place under the bed as evil men stormed her bedroom. Mohinder came flying through after them, kicking and screaming and cursing up a storm, but Mohinder could never stop a bullet. Molly almost cried out as his cold, dead body fell to the floor. Molly stifled the sound by biting her hand, choking on blood and salty tears. The men started searching around her room, looking in the closet and one bent down to look under the bed. He went flying before he could reach her. Molly watched in horror as bodies went flying around her room, landing dead next to Mohinder. Large boots walked steadily into the room, pausing next to the doctor's body. The boogeyman bent down and turned it over, tracing the face gently while closing blank eyes. He motioned for Molly, who crawled willingly into his warm arms crying similar tears.

* * *

A/N: Is it bad that I don't feel bad killing them? XD 


	22. A Mylar Anniversary

A/N: (snicker) Happy Birthday Withoutpermission. This is an AU Mylar family drabble just for you. XD Though if you want...You can believe that all my Mylar drabbles were written for you. I really love reading your reviews and I love your art!

* * *

Gabriel was a bundle of nerves as he closed up shop, a small parcel underneath his arm and flowers in hand. It had been exactly one year since he met Mohinder and he wanted to get his boyfriend something nice. Since he wasn't very experienced with dating traditions, Gabriel had searched around before figuring out what he thought would be the perfect gift for Mohinder. 

The bouquet of flowers seemed a little tacky at first, but a book had said that it was a perfect anniversary gift. Gabriel was unsure of how Mohinder would react to them, so he was going to use the excuse that he bought them for sweet, adorable Molly if Mohinder didn't like them. The real gift was one he spent the last couple of months working on, staying at the shop every night and missing dinner half the time.

Gabriel strolled down the walkway, blushing when little old grannies giggled at his possessions, and tried to walk slowly in order to calm his nerves before getting home. His stomach was a flip flop of excitement and he couldn't keep a silly grin from spreading across his face. Gabriel skipped up the apartment steps, two at a time, and wandered down the hall pausing at the door.

Gabriel hesitated a moment, fumbling with his packages in order to hide them behind his back, and knocked softly. He took a deep breath, hearing Molly's padding feet and laughter running to the door. It flew open wide and Molly stared up at him with a surprised look before pouncing on him. Small, skinny arms wrapped around Gabriel's waist as Molly squealed.

"Gabriel!" She nearly knocked him over with her enthusiasm. "You came home early!"

Gabriel chuckled, trying to stay balanced and keep the presents hidden. "Can I come in?"

Molly giggled at his blushing face, stepping back from her hug. "Of course you can silly, you practically live here."

Molly turned on the heel and ran back into the apartment hollering for Mohinder. "Dad! Gabriel is here!"

Gabriel stepped carefully into the doorway, closing the door with his foot and taking some deep breaths before Mohinder appeared. Mohinder eyed him curiously a warm smile spread across his face.

"You're back early." He stated his sweet voice was like honey making Gabriel grinned.

He stepped forward and leaned down to give his boyfriend a kiss in greeting. Molly returned skipped into the living room with some drawings in hand and gave a shriek. Mohinder pulled back alarmed while Molly attacked Gabriel's back.

"You brought flowers!" She squealed, tearing the bouquet from Gabriel's loose grip. "So pretty!"

Mohinder's eyebrow rose in question and he stared incredulously at Gabriel. "You bought flowers?"

Gabriel blushed and pulled the package that Molly missed from behind his back. "Happy Anniversary."

Molly was twirling around the room with the bouquet but stopped when she saw her father's shocked face. She burst into hysterical giggles at Mohinder's embarrassment and moved forward to see what he had gotten.

"Open it! Open it!" She crowed as Mohinder numbly took the gift and started opening it carefully.

Gabriel shifted nervously, unable to stop grinning as he watch Mohinder's facial expression and hoped Mohinder liked his gift. Mohinder chuckled and batted Molly's grasping hands away from the box before gasping at what lay within. Inside was pocket watch that had belonged to Chandra Suresh before he passed away. Gabriel had found lying broken in a box while he helped Mohinder move three months ago.

"You fixed this?" Mohinder whispered in astonishment as he carefully lifted the watch from the box, admiring it.

Gabriel grinned at Mohinder's wonder and swooped in for another kiss when glittering brown eyes turned to him. Mohinder wrapped a free hand around Gabriel's neck and deepened the kiss, moaning.

"Get a room you two!" Molly crowed while swapping them with the rumpled bouquet and causing the two men to pull away from each other sputtering in embarrassment.

"Stop that." Mohinder laughed when Molly swamped him again and started after his giggling daughter.

Gabriel watched the chase for a while chuckling before grabbing little Molly as she tried dashing past him. He kissed her on the forehead while Mohinder stole the flowers away and began tickling her when her hands were free. That night the family went out for dinner, Mohinder's treat, and after that a late night moving.

Gabriel carried a sleeping Molly in his arms, his free hand holding Mohinder's hand and he smiled contentedly, feeling like the luckiest man in the world.

* * *

A/N: Wasn't much for slash, but I wanted a family moment between the three. Won't be any more drabbles until after the season finale! I have to work on homework and Out of Mind. 


	23. After the Finale, Mylar

A/N: Quick drabbles after watching the finale. **Warning: Spoilers for How to Stop an Exploding Man**

* * *

Mohinder stared numbly down at the trail of blood, his mind unable to process anything. Molly stood quivering next to him, her grip exceedingly tight in his hand.

"He's not gone." She whispered, her eyes closing and her small, fragile body leaning into Mohinder's unsteady stance. "He's still alive, just hurt."

Mohinder swallowed tightly, pulling Molly's already clinging body closer. "We'll be okay. He won't be coming back for a while."

Molly nodded silently; moving with Mohinder's sudden strives away from the bloodstained ground. Mohinder's mind was working out a plan of moving away and hiding Molly away from harm.

* * *

The pain was excruciating, but he had to keep moving. This was a small setback in his plans but like always Sylar would rise above. He had seen the future planned by Isaac, but Isaac could only see so far. Sylar had viewed his survival lying there in a pool of his own blood, and that knowledge spurned him on to keep moving. Sylar was a survivor, he was special, the best of all. Nothing as simple as a sword would take him down. Sylar pulled his body as far as he could before passing out exhausted, but still alive.

* * *

In the darkness of night, curled up in a ball to preserve heat, Sylar dreamed. His eyelids flickered, his smiling mouth twitching, as memories flooded his mind. He remembered golden skin and pearly white teeth. Mohinder's dark curls wrapped within his hands while the man writhed in pleasure under him. His assumed named, whispered like a prayer, fell from those plump, bruised lips before being devoured once more. In the seedy motel, Sylar would leave the doctors spent body in a tangle of sheets before heading out for the night's kill. Sylar lived off these dreams while his body healed.

* * *

Mohinder ran his hand calmingly through Molly's hair, smoothing them away from her sweating face. She was shivering and crying in her sleep, but Mohinder learned long ago not to awaken her from her nightmares because they contained vast amounts of information. Molly had no control over her power while dreaming, so she sought out thousands of people and could identify their location when awake. If awoken to soon, she would go into hysterics because _that man_ would be watching her. Molly's mind always went to _him_ while waking so Mohinder left her alone, though it took all his self-control.

* * *

A/N: Wrote really quickly...Mind's still reeling from the episode. 


	24. After the Phone Call

A/N: The first part in '_italics' _isn't written by me. It's written by another author, Withoutmission, and the continuing part is what I added. I posted her fic because I wasn't sure if the other part would make sense. (I'll take it down if you don't want it posted here)

* * *

"_Mohinder."_

_"…"_

_"Please."_

_"…"_

_"I need your help."_

_"Why are you calling me? Isn't it a mistake?"_

_"Forget what I said before. Please."_

_"And how can you even expect that I'd want to help you?"_

_"…I…"_

_"…?"_

_"Please…help me, I need you."_

_"You want my list."_

_"No, forget the list! I think I really am going to blow up, I saw it happen."_

_"How can you…"_

_"…Mohinder?"_

_"You killed Isaac Mendez didn't you?"_

_"…"_

_"Where are you?"_

_"Stop! Don't call 911! Just listen to me, please! I don't want to do this anymore-I'm losing control."_

_"…"_

_"Can I see you?"_

_"Why do you want my help?"_

_"You're the only one I can trust."_

_"You don't trust anyone."_

_"…"_

_"Are you crying!?"_

_"I didn't mean for her to die-"_

_"What!?"_

_"…I can't control myself anymore."_

_"Who did you kill!?"_

_"I just wanted her to see how hard I worked to be special…maybe then I could…"_

_"Sylar! Who did you kill!?"_

_"I didn't kill her! It was an accident!"_

_"Who!?"_

_"My…my…mother."_

_"…Oh my God."_

_"She could have stopped me. Just a few words and I could have gone back…I could have…"_

_"Where are you?"_

_"I'll go to you. Please…help me; tell me that you can."_

_"…"_

_"…Please…"_

_"I'll try."_

_"(Sigh) thank you."_

_"…"_

_"Mohinder?"_

_"What?"_

_"Sh-she was right wasn't she? I'm damned."_

_"…I'm not sure what you are anymore."_

_"…Thank you."_

**'Phonecall' by withoutpermission. Posted on the mylarfic livejournal community. **

_

* * *

_

It took Mohinder the longest time to put the phone down after Sylar ended the call. His mind was a whirl of doubt and confusion that such a call had even occurred in the first place. Mohinder half believed that he imagined it if not for the fact that his heart was thrumming away and his hands trembling abnormally.

The phone fell from limp fingers as Mohinder glanced over at a clock, trying to determine how much time he had left to flee. It took him a moment to realize that he wasn't even aware of how far Sylar actually was from his apartment and could be walking to the door right now.

Senses alive and adrenaline pumping, Mohinder walked to the door and opened it carefully, half expecting to see Sylar standing on the other side with a hand raised to knock. He sighed in relief when there was no one there, sure that if Sylar was he would have probably screamed or fainted. Mohinder's mind was already feeling lightheaded enough to keel over right then.

Steadying himself with both hands on the doorframe, Mohinder leaned forward and glanced down the hall. Nothing was there, but he stared a moment longer to make sure his vision wasn't fooling him. No one, empty and silent like always.

"I need to sit down." Mohinder observed, speaking to thin air and stumbling into his apartment.

He didn't even bother closing the door, feeling too paranoid with not being able to see Sylar if he did truly come. Collapsing on the sofa, Mohinder ran a hand through his course, sweaty hair. Wondered why he even agreed to help the serial killer who was probably coming to his home with dried bloody hands. The thought made him shudder and Mohinder willed the image away.

* * *

Gabriel hung the phone up, it slipping from his bloody hands just slightly. He wiped the cooling liquid on his vest and crossed the room to pick up his jacket. Gabriel tried with all his might not to look at the body, glad his eyes were tearing so all images were blurry. Mohinder said he'd help him, well at least try, and Gabriel clung to that hope frantically. 

He turned off the lights as he exited the room, making sure to lock the door like his mother had always taught him. The ghostly words from memory echoed behind him as he fully closed the door.

"_Bye my Gabriel. Be careful on the streets. Don't forget to call."_ The feeling of ghostly hands smoothing his collar and the chilly kiss made Gabriel tremble more as he ran down the hall as far away from the corpse.

Once in the streets Gabriel floundered, trying to remember which way Mohinder was. This part of the city didn't have many taxis and the street was mostly deserted in the darkening night. Gabriel quelled his shaking and focused his breathing, reaching out for the power of levitation. Not as great as real flying would be, but it still made travel a little easier.

Soaring through the air with great concentration, Gabriel tried to believe the warm tears were because of the cold air. His mind was grappling to forget already, to push away those dangerous, self-destroying words. He wasn't damned, at least not yet, and Mohinder didn't believe he was so his mother was wrong.

"Mohinder will make everything better." Gabriel whispered fervently, landing in the alley outside Mohinder's apartment.

* * *

With steady steps and a furiously beating heart, Gabriel made his way up the familiar stairs while making sure to wipe his teary face dry. 

The young, dark man turned weary eyes to the stumbling, bloody man entering the room. The bloody man stumbled forward, blood coating his face, and collapsed into the arms of the stunned, frozen man. Unsure arms slowly wrapped around shaking shoulders cautiously, almost fearfully.

"I'm sorry." A whispered disturbed the rooms silence and a clumsy, salted kiss followed the soft utterance.

The two bodies fell on the sofa, writhing in agony, terror, and pleasure. One man rejoiced feeling freed from sin, while the darker felt more damned than ever. Spent, emotionally and physically, they curled around each other fast asleep.

* * *


	25. Injured Sylar and Random Mylar

A/N: Two different stories, not really connected at all. First takes place after episode 23. The second doesn't take place after anything...

* * *

**1. **(Injured Sylar sneaks into Mohinder's apartment...unable to do anything really) 

The darkness and silence of the room send Mohinder's drowsy mind reeling with confusion trying to figure out if he was still sleeping. The feeling of his stomach, cold tendrils of ice slithering through his veins and making him sweat, had him believing he was awake but that could just be part of the dream. It was a warm hand suddenly crossing his jaw, trapping sound and air that informed Mohinder of the reality of his situation.

He tasted warm, copper blood that dripped from the cool trembling hand causing his body to gag and heave. Sylar's gasping hiss for silence assaulted his ears and Mohinder stilled under the murderers hands. Sylar's strength faltered after a while, his hand trailing down Mohinder's jaw as he leaned heavily into the side of the couch. The dark head moved to rest against the cushions as Sylar's body shuddered coughing out blood onto the worn fabric.

Mohinder sat up the moment that hand left his chest, ready to bolt while the killer was distracted, but his eyes took him the trembling form, unable to bear its own weight and he stilled. Sylar was injured and could cause him no harm, though he still felt on edge watching that large, broken body rest against his father's couch. Sylar turned to let his back rest against the couch, his head falling back as he gasped with blood trailing out the corner of his mouth.

Once Sylar was still, Mohinder edged off the couch slowly watching intently for any reaction as he pushed his weary body into standing. His hand moved to the reassuring outline of his cell which he carried in his pockets at all times now. Sylar's head lulled to stare at him, too weak for any other motion, and clutched harder at the flowing wound in his chest. Mohinder felt nausea coil in his stomach as his eyes got clear view of the injury and he turned away feeling squeamish.

Sylar coughed again, curling in on himself, and Mohinder winced at the sight of blood spilling onto the floor. He moved over to the kitchenette to grab some towels and cautiously crouched by Sylar's still form. Sylar had his head cradled into his legs, bent over in such a painful looking position and Mohinder knew he was stretching that wound. Mohinder took Sylar's shoulders and pushed him back slowly, finally taking in his appearance up close.

Sylar's clothes were filthy and soaking wet, covered in a slime that made Mohinder recoil his hand in disgust. He was very surprised the man could even move, with the amount of blood drenching his clothes, but his whirling mind supplied that parasites usually don't die quickly. Mohinder paused in his pressing against the wound, which he had started unconsciously once Sylar was sitting upright, and recoiled from his father's killer.

He couldn't believe he was trying to help this man, the man who tried to kill him and murdered so many others. Mohinder's hand whipped out the cell phone, dialing the number's for the police when Sylar's hand clamped around his own.

"Don't." Sylar rasped his voice hoarse and lips spilling more blood onto his face.

Mohinder pulled his hand free from the grip, rather easily, and started dialing again. Sylar's hand gave a weak flick, telekinetically pulling the phone free from his hand but it dropped instantly to the ground at their feet. Sylar's hand fell limply into his lap and he clutched at his wound with the towel Mohinder had left behind.

"Why shouldn't I call them?" Mohinder hissed angrily, wanting to yell but not wanting to wake Molly.

"Please." Sylar's hand reached out for him but fell short, thumping uselessly onto the floor.

Mohinder watched the helpless man dab weakly at his chest; quickly losing the strength he must have used reaching the apartment, such a far distance from where he was stabbed. The sight wrenched at Mohinder's heart for he still couldn't rid his heart of the love he had for 'Zane' and the burning anger he felt subsided into cooling embers in his veins. He removed the towel from Sylar's limp grip and reapplied hard pressure to the wound, letting Sylar's head fall onto his shoulder as exhaustion overtook him.

The smallest whisper of cloth from the doorway had Mohinder glancing to see Molly wrapped tightly in a blanket peering in. Her face was calm; blinking away the sleep from her eyes as she padded to sit on the couch next to the two men crouched on the floor. She leaned against Mohinder's shoulder, silently peeing down at the man, and her hair trailed down Mohinder's neck.

"Will he be okay?" Her voice was quiet and the question startling.

"I don't know." Mohinder replied as Sylar coughed more blood.

"He's not so scary anymore." Molly admitted into his shoulder, brushing her tiny hand through Sylar's sweaty hair.

"No, he's not." Mohinder admitted, shifting his grip so his one arm could cradle Sylar's body and allow a more comfortable position to attend the wound. "Can you go get me the first aid kit?"

Molly nodded, padding lightly across the floor, her pale hair cascading in the light as she disappeared into the bathroom. Mohinder sighed tiredly, rubbing his free hand across Sylar's shoulder blades and feeling the murderer sigh in his slumber.

* * *

**2. **(A random thought that I wrote a while ago and haven't done anything with it. Kind of the middle of a scene) 

"I knew you would come." Sylar smugly proclaimed, strolling forward to Mohinder's frozen body. "You just couldn't resist trying to be a hero, right Mohinder?"

Mohinder grit his teeth and glared, wishing he had some sort of eye laser power to blow the other man into smithereens. Since he didn't have that power he could only flinch back from Sylar's hand ghosting across his cheek.

"Really now, Mohinder, you should know by now that you can't do anything to stop me." Sylar purred leaning closer and smirking as Mohinder cringed away. "You'll only get hurt for trying."

To make good on his statement, Sylar brandished his hand like a knife and slashed telekinetically through Mohinder's shirt, tearing it off, and leaving trails of thin, stinging cuts across a heaving chest. Mohinder strained against the mental hold on his body but to no avail as Sylar bent over to lick a rivulet of blood up Mohinder's stomach.

Shuddering, Mohinder gasped in protest feeling waves of disgust and pleasure at the sensation of a warm tongue. "Stop Sylar…"

Sylar fixed his hypnotizing gaze onto Mohinder's face, trapping the breath in Mohinder's lungs. Blood coated lips curled into a smile, some dribbling down that prominent chin, as Sylar kissed brown, pouting lips gently.

"I know you really don't want me to stop." He showed off his sharp bloody teeth, and trailing a hand down to press against the bulge in Mohinder's pant. "You're getting off on being the victim just like last time."

Mohinder bit back a groan as that warm hand started massaging him, but Sylar could hear the sounds dying in his throat and chuckled cruelly. Mohinder yelped as Sylar bit down on his neck, hard enough to draw blood, and started sucking the wound teasingly to spurn groaning moans from Mohinder's betraying lips.

* * *

A/N: Mylar has taken over my school life...I write during classes more often now...Which isn't a very good thing. Oh well. (snicker) 


	26. Fullfilling A Painted Solution

A/N: This was wrote at random (while I took a break from my other story) and it is carrying on a drabble I wrote awhile ago. The Isaac's painting one... It's not really good though...I just wrote it on the spot now and prob. has errors. (sigh)

* * *

"Hello…umm…Mohinder Suresh?" The strangled voice on the other line startled Mohinder at first for he wasn't used to people calling his cell phone.

"Speaking, who's calling?" He asked back curiously, secretly hoping it was someone returning his call.

"My name is Isaac Mendez. I was told by Peter that you were a specialist with genetics…" Isaac's voice trailed off and Mohinder could hear clinking on the other side.

"Yes! I mean, I do have some knowledge with genetics and evolution." He hesitated for a moment feeling unwarranted suspicion curl up his spine, learned harshly from a bitter betrayal the day before. "How did you get this number?"

"Oh! Umm…" There was a grating sound on the other line and Mohinder thought it sounded like a chair. "I can see the future…and I, well, I saw myself dialing this number. So I just…uh…copied it."

Mohinder blinked at the phone feeling the overwhelming hope swell in his chest as the absurd reply answered his next question. "You can paint the future, Peter was right."

Isaac chuckled on the other line, releasing the tension that was in it before. "Yes, I can paint it. I was actually wondering if I could meet you."

"Of course," Mohinder replied, shuffling through his own papers and digging for Isaac's address located in the back of the comic book he had. "I'd love to come."

Isaac cleared his throat, "You don't need my address, right? Peter said he brought you here once before."

"That's right. I also have your comic." Mohinder replied grinning warmly into the phone as he struggled putting his jacket on.

"Umm…Can you not bring any weapons with you…" The statement had Mohinder pausing, as his free hand dropped the jacket and landed on the pistol he had.

"Why?"

"Just don't. And you don't need your jacket either." Isaac's statements were so firm and strange that Mohinder couldn't help but follow along, out of curiosity.

"Okay." Mohinder answered, letting the jacket fall to the floor and carefully placing his gun in the desk drawer.

"See you in a bit." Isaac's end of the phone went dead and Mohinder stared at the phone puzzled.

"Bye." He shrugged and slid the phone into his pocket before heading out the door with comic book in hand.

* * *

Isaac paced around his flat, feeling adrenaline rush through his veins as he held the dog collar in hand and sighed. "Please hurry Mohinder." 

"Isaac Mendez?" Mohinder's voice called as a loud wrapping on the door startled Isaac.

"Coming!" He called, shoving the collar into his pocket before opening the door. "Come on in."

Mohinder glanced curiously around, taking in the paintings. "Wow, so many."

Isaac smiled and closed the door firmly, locking it. "Yes, I paint them everyday. I can't fit them all in a comic book."

Mohinder smile was warm and trusting, "That's amazing, can I take a closer look?"

"Be my guest." Isaac motioned for Mohinder to look around feeling guilty for what he was about to do.

"An explosion…" Mohinder stood staring down amazed at the floor as Isaac enclosed his hand over a syringe of sedatives he had bought.

"Can I get you something to drink?" Isaac asked casually, striding over to a mini fridge he prepared earlier.

"Yes, that'd be nice." Mohinder replied as he drifted over to a picture of Peter falling.

Isaac kept a close eye on the man as he poured a glass of coke before moving to give it to Mohinder. "Here you go."

Mohinder took the glass smiling, not at all distrurbed when Isaac's arm wrapped around his shoulder in a friendly gesture. "Thank you."

Isaac felt a little guilty, but he pushed that feeling away because the world was at stake. "Do you like my paintings?"

"They're very interesting. How do you draw them…I mean, how do you see the future?" Mohinder turned to look at the paintings and that's when Isaac jabbed the syringe into the vulnerable neck.

"What?" Mohinder gasped, tearing away from the hold and touching his neck tenderly.

The glass of coke fell to the floor and broke, sending shards of glass skidding across the painted mural, while Isaac whispered his apologies. "I'm sorry, it's the only way."

"You…you…" Mohinder's eyes fluttered shut, his body collapsing as his vision clouded and he fell into Isaac's waiting arms.

"Sorry Mohinder, but I know you won't mind when you wake up." Isaac settled the geneticist down onto the floor and began undoing his shirt, praying he still had enough time to get prepared.

* * *

"Hello? Anybody home?" Sylar called out cheerily into the darkened room as he entered the painter's loft. 

"Mnghh…" A groaning sigh flowed into his ears and Sylar paused, eyes scanning the darkness for sight of the person making the sound.

His eyes widened as he took in a familiar outline in the shadows of a canvas. "Mohinder?"

"Zane?" A slurred voice sounded as the shadowed body rolled over, coming into clear view due to the light of the moon leaking through the windows and Sylar couldn't stop staring at beautiful dark skin.

Sylar crept forward, his eyes devouring the sight of flesh and perfection while drowsy, drugged eyes peered up at him curiously. "What are you doing here Zane?'

"I came looking for Isaac," Sylar crouched down, running possessive fingers down Mohinder's shoulders lovingly while he imagined tracing bloody paths of pleasure into the skin. "Why are you here Mohinder?"

Mohinder's eyes widened as he sat up, the light pooling over the rest of his naked body while he crawled forward to examine Sylar's face closely. "You're not Zane…"

Sylar's eyes caught the collar hanging around that vulnerable neck, his name branded deeply into the metal tag. "No, I'm Sylar. And you belong to me."

Mohinder gasped as Sylar dragged his body closer using the collar and moaned into the bruising, possessive kiss. "Mmm..."

* * *

"I saved the world." Isaac toasted as he leant back in his chair, eyes glowing as it viewed the happy life of two once doomed men living together in the future.

* * *

A/N: Hopefully the random crazy ideas will leave me alone now and allow me to write seriously for Out of Mind. 


	27. The Happy Mylar Family

A/N: More Mylar Family stuff.

* * *

With a scratchy throat, Mohinder made his way into the living room bearing the enormous weight of Molly's birthday cake. It was her first birthday party with him and Gabriel; Mohinder didn't want anything to go wrong. He couldn't prevent his throat from getting sore and sensitive, but Mohinder was determined to hide his sickness for fear that it would ruin his little girl's party. 

"Oh wow! That cake's huge!" Molly's delighted squeal and wide-eyed stare made it difficult for Mohinder to hold back his laughter, further irritating his throat, but Gabriel saved him from coughing by singing.

His rich voice filled the room with familiar words and Molly turned in his lap to stare even more surprised at his face. Mohinder knew from experience that his boyfriend had a beautiful singing voice but he still couldn't help but gape at the blushing man as he trailed off nervously.

"What?" Gabriel's trademark embarrassed smile shone through and Molly giggled while pulling him into a hug.

"You sing beautifully." Her childish praise made Gabriel beam as he squeezed back and joyful eyes sought out Mohinder's own to offer a playful wink.

Mohinder shook his head of his momentary stupor, feeling a little lightheaded from his illness and Gabriel's singing but he was determined to make it through the night without any problems.

"You do sing nicely." Mohinder stated, placing the cake on the table before Molly's excitedly glowing face.

Gabriel's blush spread deeper across his face as Mohinder licked some icing off his finger in a suggestive fashion when Molly wasn't looking. She was busy counting the candles, making sure they were the right amount and that gave Mohinder a chance to give his drooling boyfriend a kiss. Short and sweet so as not to garner unwanted lectures from the apparently innocent little girl, or so Molly liked to proclaim when catching her father's doing inappropriate things while cooking dinner.

Mohinder pulled his head back quickly when Molly's head turned back eagerly awaiting approval to blow out the candles and Mohinder nodded his consent, just stopping his hand from rising to steady his swirling vision. Gabriel prodded Molly's sides, eliciting some squeals of laughter, and moved to grab a camera to capture this first birthday together.

Molly cutely concentrated on the glowing flames, licking her lips and taking a deep breath before blowing the flames out. Gabriel flashed the camera away and Mohinder clapped gleefully when he saw that all candles had gone out, his little girl didn't need to have any boyfriends at her age, and Molly pranced off to go grab plates and forks. Gabriel turned the camera onto Mohinder, the flashes made him momentarily dizzy and Mohinder had to use a chair back to steady himself.

"Are you okay?" Gabriel asked frowning and lowering the camera down from his eyes.

"Yes, I'm fine." Mohinder replied, holding back the tickling sensation in his throat and feeling his face start to flush under Gabriel's intense scrutiny.

He felt butterflies swell in his stomach when that big, strong hand moved towards his face and Mohinder sighed in relief as Molly returned with the plates and silverware in hand.

"Hey! None of that on my birthday," She pouted, stomping forward and pushing Gabriel away from Mohinder. "You can play with him later Gabriel."

Gabriel face was enflamed once more in a blush as he allowed Molly to back him into a chair. She shoved the knife in his hand and directed Gabriel to cut the cake before asking Mohinder sweetly to go grab some ice cream. It was really hard to resist following the orders of someone so cute and Mohinder found himself staring into the freezer while hearing the happy laughter at his back.

The cold air from the freezer fan felt really nice on his burning face and Mohinder held the ice cream to his forehead for a second, sighing pleasurably. Molly's cries for him to hurry up at his back forced Mohinder to return to the table and get handed a plate of chocolate cake.

They ate cheerfully, Molly squealing over her presents and offering many hugs and kisses. Mohinder felt like his face was going to stick from the huge smile he couldn't seem to fight off. Molly was so adorable excited and her energy spread onto him and Gabriel as they told jokes and played games with their little girl. Soon Molly wandered off to watch the movie Gabriel had gotten her, leaving her two fathers to clean up the mess.

"Are you okay?" Gabriel echoed his question from before but this time Mohinder couldn't escape the hand. "You're really warm Mohinder. Are you sick?"

Mohinder closed his eyes, leaning into the cool hand across his brow and sighing against his boyfriend's lips, "Maybe I do have a cold."

"Why aren't you resting?" Gabriel pulled him up against his chest, wrapping his long arms around Mohinder's waist and snaking chilled fingers up his shirt.

Mohinder hissed and moaned quietly as icy coldness spread across his burning flesh and Gabriel's lips captured his own. Mohinder pulled back, not wanting to get his boyfriend sick, and rested his head on that steady chest to listen to Gabriel's soothing heartbeat.

"I don't want you getting sick," He answered Gabriel's silent question asked through a slight squeeze on his hip.

From the living room almost drowned out by the blaring television they could hear Molly yell.

"I know you're sick, go to bed Mohinder!" Her young voice ordered and the two men laughed, though Mohinder started coughing and was sent off to bed being wrapped up in Gabriel's arms; Molly could put herself to bed.

* * *

A/N: I think I might be getting a cold. I've been coughing all evening and my throat is scratchy...That's the only reason why I wrote this. I'm weird... 


	28. Captured Sylar

A/N: Mylar, Mohinder/Petrelli brothers.

* * *

It was maddening for him to have this frail, broken, poor-excuse-of-a-human at his mercy and still not be allowed to deal the finishing blow. He had been told countless times why Sylar needed to be kept alive, not fully healthy but still living, and Mohinder was still having problems being convinced. The fate of the world depended of his survival, at least in some form, but sometimes Mohinder was tempted to just say 'screw it' and plunge his sharp scalpel into the twisted, marled pale flesh of Sylar's chest to be done with him forever. Mohinder's patience was tried everyday while having to prod, test, and experiment on Sylar's body and not shiver under the furious, drugged up stare continuously being directed at him and his assistants while they worked. 

Mohinder knew that Sylar would never be fully restrained forever, but he failed many times arguing his case against the Petrelli brother's beliefs, as they were the benefactors of this little project. The other day Sylar had lunged up from the table with a furious rage, break through the various restraints and wrap his hands around Mohinder's neck. The grip was feeble and didn't keep the strength required to steal life's breath from his body and Peter had no problem forcing that hated man back down. Mohinder stilled flinched at the memory of those weakened wrists twisting under an invisible force and snapping audibly into the silenced room. Mohinder had pushed passed Peter's seeking, healing hands and stumbled back into his room while trying to rid the feelings roiling up inside him.

Once he had the door safely locked behind him, Mohinder loosed his weary soul into tearing apart his belongings. He knocked over carefully stacked files, threw his glass dishes at the walls, and screamed bloody murder until there was nothing left to destroy. Mohinder collapsed onto his bed, trying to bring his traitorous body under control while the effects of Sylar's hated touch still burned around his neck and into his mind. Frustrated tears pooled at his eyes while he bit his lip and palmed his aching, bulging cock into release with memories of bloodied nights flashing behind closed eyelids.

Mohinder remembered the nights he woke up screaming, before the Petrelli brothers came to him with their plans, the times when Sylar would awaken him with an unbearably painful, pleasurable orgasm. That large dominating body would hold his writhing body down while Mohinder's vision was clouded by smug, feral grins spreading across that most hated face. Those nights had branded into his soul and Mohinder still had trouble sleeping on nights when Peter or Nathan never showed at his door. Mohinder was almost grateful for the Petrelli brothers because they did that, one would come before he went to sleep and ease his mind of nightmarish thoughts and fill his body with passion.

It gave Mohinder great insight and helped fuel his mind with plans of escaping this horrible life and maybe destroying the monster who claimed ownership of his body and soul. Mohinder had plans to use Nathan, the impersonal and rational thinking brother who kept sex simply sex and left no meaning behind whispered encouragements before release. He could use Nathan and convince him of the dangers regarding Sylar because Mohinder knew Peter, the loving altruistic brother, would bend under his older brother's will. Mohinder just had to wait for the right moment, gather enough proof in order to convince the stony politician but it was very hard to be patient.

Mohinder still felt like a toy at Sylar's mercy, even though the man was far from being as powerful as he had been once before. Those dark, haunting eyes still kept their power over Mohinder's mind as they burned brand marks into his skin while he worked at gathering hair samples or pushed needles roughly into veins. Sylar might grimace in pain from time to time or gurgle, incoherent noises from the continual drug infusion, but those eyes stayed open. They stayed watchful, always analyzing, calculating and planning the best moment to escape because it was inevitable that he would.

The time when he almost strangled Mohinder had just been a reminder, a warning. That wolfish grin as he winced in pain from his twisting, cracking bones was all the proof Mohinder needed. Sylar was still reinstating his claim that Mohinder's life was still in his hands, he still had control when his body was thought to be fully restrained. It froze Mohinder to the core to have this knowledge, made him tremble in rage and hate for himself and that parasite. The urge to kill and destroy battling with his need to be dominated, a lesson his body learned and craved no matter how much he wished he could forget it.

Mohinder could only wait for he had no means to start anything yet. He had to gather information, the proof and then convince Nathan or he had to wait for Sylar to break free and be stolen away by that madman. Patience used to be one of his strong suits, but it wasn't anymore. Every day he could feel his carefully controlled sanity slip down the drain more and more. Peter's touches and Nathan's strong will would never be enough to keep him whole, no matter how much they believed they could keep him. Sylar had already begun destroying him long before they had ever thought that Mohinder was in danger.

* * *

A/N: This was just...weird. (shrug) 


	29. Mylarness

A/N: I'm finally getting to the end of homework...but now I'm heading into exams. (sigh) MohinderZane, MohinderGabriel, MohinderSylar

* * *

_Overworking_

The numbers scattering across the screen began to blur before drowsy brown eyes as Mohinder headed into his twenty sixth hour of work. With drooping eyelids, Mohinder plucked away at the worn keyboard hoping to solve the equation when he couldn't even recognize the products anymore. The soft clicking of his apartment door opening went unnoticed as with the ticking clock, moving sunrays, and his growling stomach.

The shadow in the door way blinked at the similar slouched position that Mohinder had adopted the day before. Closing the door, soft silent footfalls echoed across the floor but still Mohinder didn't stir until warm, large hands rested upon his shoulders.

"Have you even slept?" Mohinder jumped startled as Zane's familiar deep tones seeped into his hazy mind.

"Wha--?" Mohinder leaned back into the strong hold, letting his head rest against Zane's pale wrists in order to look into amused hazel eyes. "When did you get here?"

Amusement radiated from Zane's being as his sensual lips quirked into a smile of amusement.

"I just got here," His teeth were bright and Mohinder was slightly hypnotized by the sunlight pooling in from behind the curtains to illuminate the whiteness. "Now answer my question."

Mohinder's hand strayed from the keyboard, feeling sweaty and stiff from constant typing, in order to wipe away at the sleep in his eyes. "What question?"

A yawn mangled that cultured voice and Zane's eyes glinted with contained mirth at how adorable the young geneticist looked.

"You've already answered it" The response puzzled Mohinder's tired mind but he couldn't think anymore on it.

Zane's strong, warm hands moved smoothly down Mohinder's shoulders and tugged at his hands to pull the exhausted body to its feet. Mohinder gave a muffled protest but was silenced by an insistent mouth encasing his own, absorbing the sound. The young geneticist leaned into Zane's larger frame, having to move further from the computer in order to keep his lips engaged in the battle as Zane skillfully maneuvered the tired man to the bedroom with slow steps backwards.

Once the bedroom door had been breached, Zane allowed his hands to roam over the deliciously compliant body which moved lazily in assistance to his demands. Mohinder let his hand rest on Zane's broad shoulders while sighing in pleasure at the sensation of smooth hands massaging his stiff shoulders during their embrace.

"You really shouldn't work so hard." Zane's voice vibrated through Mohinder's head and he hummed in response, feeling too warm and sleepy to think up a good reply.

Zane gently pushed the shirtless doctor onto the soft, lumpy bed and crawled along next to him so Mohinder could cuddle into his warmth.

"I have to keep searching," Mohinder's voice slurred against Zane's throat, causing him to shiver when rough stubble rubbed lovingly into his shoulder, "Have to save people from Sylar."

Mohinder drifted off into a blissful sleep while wrapped safely in Zane's arms. Zane's dark eyes reflected the sunlight, calculating plans while Mohinder dreamed.

* * *

_Countdown_

It took five minutes and thirty seven seconds to wash and dry the small amount of dishes left over the night before. It took three minutes and fourteen seconds to organize the pile of loose newspaper and place them in a recycle bin located by the apartment door. Another minute and fifty two seconds were used to straighten curling, wet hair just before the buzzer sounded at the door. Gabriel adjusted his shirt, waited twenty six seconds and opened the door in seven seconds.The exchanged greetings took fifteen seconds, it took twelve seconds for him to remove his shoes, and Gabriel used up a minute and fifty seconds to hang up that jacket coat. The brief, awkward pause took eleven seconds before delicious brown lips overtook his own. Gabriel's mind stopped counting time after the twelve minutes and forty three seconds it took to get into the bedroom, unclothed.

* * *

_Scar_

The scarring on that pure white chest looked sexy in the pale moonlight glow, or so Mohinder thought. He had gotten in the habit of tracing it with his fingers, watching the slight shivers caused by his feather light touch. Mohinder hadn't liked the scarring at first, but became fascinated with the imperfection because it made Sylar more human. Showed that the godlike being who Sylar tried to be could still be hurt and damaged and he could still be saved from himself because his powers were not undefeatable. Such a weird thing to become entranced by, Sylar had even found it strange, but Mohinder couldn't fight the pleasure he felt each time that mangled flesh appeared beneath knotted fabric wrapped in his sweating fingers.

* * *

A/N: Point out errors and such...I was too lazy to go edit and read over stuff. I'm so very tired right now... 


	30. Can't Keep Sylar Caged

A/N: PetrelliBros/Mohinder, Mylar Continuation. This one is not edited so point out errors when you see them. Oh...and there's a death in this too...and some gore...

* * *

His skin tingled as the cool night's air settled over his sweating body that was just starting to relax from mindless pleasure provided by the eldest Petrelli brother. Nathan's large and surprisingly soft fingers trailed lazily up his stomach, leaving sticky trails in their wake and igniting convulsive shivers over Mohinder's breathless body. The fingers stopped their exploration, resting lazily against Mohinder's waist as Nathan's breathing evened out into slumber. The sound of his deep breathing tickling against Mohinder's ear had Mohinder's own eyes drooping with the welcoming presence of sleep. 

Feeling drowsy and satisfied, Mohinder shifted closer to the warm body at his back while feeling somewhat wistful that Nathan wasn't more like his brother Peter. Peter would be clinging to his body at a moment like this, his long, slender legs would be entangled with Mohinder's own while a pale cheek nuzzled in his chocolate curls. His soothing voice would fill the room with unwanted small talk that usually had Mohinder fast asleep in seconds rather than lying awake beside Nathan's form, drifting between sleep and wakefulness. On a chilly night such as this, those warm and snug arms were very tempting to lie in but Nathan was more suitable to summer nights for he liked to keep distance, make everything feel meaningless.

Mohinder had been quite surprised to see Nathan at his door earlier that night for the congressman had been very busy over the last three weeks. Peter, as he was informed once Nathan had settled himself into the room, had to take a little time away to run some errand and he'd not return until the next day. As Mohinder's eyes drifted fully shut, with sleep finally claiming his mind, Mohinder felt the slight uneasiness he always experienced when he knew Peter wasn't around. But that fear wasn't as powerful as the first night or the second or the third, for it was slightly dampened with the lack of actual incident which was one Mohinder feared, and anticipated, most.

It wouldn't be long before Sylar finally escaped; Mohinder had seen it in the crazed man's eyes as they followed his movements around the room like a hawk. There was an ever present shadow of a smirk lining those stubble covered lips that sent shivers down Mohinder's spine and blood boiling in rage. He wanted to cut that throat, watch the last remaining life drain out of those dark hypnotizing eyes, and steal the last breaths out of Sylar's swollen, choking lips. His steady hands had faltered during his first attempt, changing his course to make it seem like he was just cutting some of Sylar's hair, with a scalpel of all things, and a low, rumbling chuckle mocked his ears because Sylar knew, he always knew the thoughts going on in Mohinder's mind.

Sleep finally stopped his thoughts, pulling him into the deep blissful world of nothingness granted him by mental and physical exhaustion. In this state there was no remembering, no nightmares, only eternal rest; which was the only thing the Petrelli ever did to make Mohinder feel grateful. Their fake love, their insistent hope, and foolish dreams were not enough to satisfy him for long, but he stayed with them because they could offer him the rest he needed in order to stay slightly less than insane. However, Mohinder started to question long ago if that was really the reason why he stayed around but those thoughts were pushed into the deepest recesses of his mind because they would destroy him if he thought on them any further.

The period of awakening, as Mohinder had been told countless times by Sylar and the Petrelli's alike, was one which lasted for about half an hour. He would be awake, but not really conscious as he moved around and that was how he found himself staring at the ceiling. There was a chilling draft enveloping his naked body and Mohinder reached blindly for the blanket he suspected Nathan had commandeered. The feeling of nothing to his left and a wall to his right sunk slowly into Mohinder's mind, bringing a little more awareness.

There was no worry in his movements as he shimmied over to the edge of the bed, closing his tired eyes to reach over the side for the expected blanket. Nathan had left countless times before in the middle of the night so there was nothing odd about him leaving this night. Though, Nathan usually tucked the blanket around him when leaving, but Mohinder was a shifting sleeper and probably kicked it off the bed. With his mind rationalizing the strangeness away, there was nothing Mohinder could have done to prepare himself for the feeling of cold, bloodied flesh against his hand as he reached into darkness.

The recoil was so sudden that Mohinder felt the bones in his arm crack with the force. He shot up from the bed staring down at Nathan's mutilated form and couldn't hold back the reflexive gagging burning at his throat. Nathan's corpse lay spread eagle on the floor, his limbs torn from the sockets, that once proud face had been pounded in with his nose inverted, jaw torn loose off its hinges, and those dark eyes bursting from their socket. The image was so sickening, so horribly surreal, that Mohinder was cutting his nails deeply into his arm to make sure it wasn't a dream. Through burning eyes Mohinder could see the signature calling card of Sylar, sliced through the top of Nathan's skull.

Sylar had been here, he had escaped and killed Nathan, and Mohinder had slept through the entire thing. The smell of death was overpowering and Mohinder choked bile into his hands, gagging his body wracked in terrified sobs. Breathing became difficult, Mohinder's body was going into shock and it took all his mental control to calm himself down. Mohinder knew he needed to get away and go find Peter because Peter was the only one who could take down Sylar.

* * *

A/N: Will be a continuation from this one as well. 


	31. Fat Sylar

**Syhindlar Fic Prompt 1 by theJollity (9th Wonders Forums): In which Mohinder reacts to Sylar putting on weight. Noticably.**

* * *

It had been a stressful trip to India and Mohinder wanted to sit back and relax in his boyfriend's arms for the rest of the night once he got home. It had taken a lot of time convincing Sylar not to follow him to his mother's home; Mohinder knew his mother wouldn't like the relationship he had now. 

Looking back on his six week stay, Mohinder couldn't help but wish that Sylar had been more insistent about going. Sylar's loving had been sorely missed, that man could do such incredible things to Mohinder's body with those various powers of his.

The need to get home increased more and more as the seconds ticked by but traffic wouldn't budge, leaving him trapped in a taxi. Stupid planning to have his flight return during the rush hour, but Mohinder took the earliest flight he could. He leaned back into the seat and closed his eyes, imagining the warm welcome he'd be getting from Sylar.

After a long wait, Mohinder tossed some money towards the driver and ran up to his apartment without waiting for change. He fumbled with the keys, finding it hard to reach into his pocket with two bags in hand, and miraculously got the door open without dropping anything. However, no large embracing arms enveloped him once he got through the door and Mohinder paused in step, wondering if he forgot to tell Sylar the day he returned.

The soft droning of a fan and the mutterings of a television floated through the room and into Mohinder's ear. Mohinder followed the sound, wondering when the tv had ended up in his bedroom, and beheld Sylar (or who he thought was Sylar) lying splayed on the bed.

Mohinder blinked once, then twice, and rubbed his eyes as he couldn't believe what lay before the sight of Sylar. His bed tangled hair was messier than before, his face had more stubble and seemed to have changed into a darker brown, liquid color. The mere size of his body was wrong for it bulged at the stomach popping buttons off one of Mohinder's favorite shirts.

"Sylar?" Mohinder questioned, stepping into the room and watching the flabby body twist to take in his form.

"Mohindy! You're home!" The blob that was Sylar, struggled to sit up with dozens of ice cream cartons, chip bags, and candy wrappers hindering his movements.

Mohinder stared as his over-sized boyfriend lugged himself off the bed and engulfed him in flabby fat arms. Sylar's face, on closer inspection, was covered in dried chocolate ice cream which he had at first mistaken as hair. Mohinder tried his best not to cringe when that dirty cheek rubbed against his own lovingly.

"I missed you so much!" Sylar squealed, dragging Mohinder back onto the bed as his legs gave under his extreme weight and the bed creaked in protest. "I almost didn't survive with you gone."

"I can see that." Mohinder replied, bouncing on the flabby stomach and wiggling to break free of the arms. "You've gotten…umm…bigger."

A sheepish smile answered his statement and a sweeping gaze circled the room pushing the garbage into neat piles using telekinesis. "Sorry, I missed you a lot while you were gone. Eating took away the pain. I'll clean up the mess."

Mohinder was pushed off to the side unexpectedly as Sylar wrestled with his body to stand. Mohinder almost bounced off the bed when Sylar stumbled on an empty cookie package, landing heavily back on the bed while crushing some other garbage.

"Just stay still!" Mohinder exclaimed, reaching his ridiculously small hand to barely hold Sylar's struggling arms down. "You don't need to clean. Let's just…uh…stay here for awhile."

Sylar grinned and dragged Mohinder's body back on top his stomach while kissing him deeply. Mohinder didn't mind the chocolate ice cream anymore; it made the kiss extra sweet.

"I'm happy you're home." Sylar sighed against his mouth.

"I'm happy too." Mohinder kissed Sylar again and then pulled back, sitting on the wiggly stomach. "You're going to have to lose weight though. I don't think I can manage you topping in this condition."

Sylar's eyes darkened and he grinned while purring, "I think you can manage Mohinder."

Mohinder snorted and pulled away from Sylar's next kiss. "No way! You'd probably suffocate me. I'm having you diet with no brains or junk food until you're normal weight again. Until then, there will be no loving."

Sylar pouted, "Fine, but can't we have fun tonight? You did just get back after all."

Mohinder couldn't resist that dark, seducing stare. "Okay, but only this one time."

It was a weird experience, almost like sleeping with jelly, but Mohinder couldn't complain after spending six weeks without getting any.

* * *

A/N: Not serious at all...I'm taking a break from studying and decided to do try something crazy... (shrug) 


	32. Outside Perspective

A/N: Outside POV of the Mylar relationship.

* * *

_Looking at them from afar, you wouldn't think they were a couple or even friends. They kept the proper distance away from each other, often times flinching when casual, swaying arms would brush accidentally as they walked out of time. __The shorter, darker, and more proper man would drag his feet behind his taller, charming, and somewhat intimidating partner as they walked somewhat separate, yet you could tell they were together, though begrudgingly, for they kept shooting short, angry glances back and forth._

If you caught the tail end of their conversation you would think they hated each other, would wonder why they even walked together down the shady park walkway. The shorter always had scathing remarks, lashing out with verbal assault every chance he got. The taller companion would just glare and mutter darkly, too soft to be heard by other's ears but whatever was said shut the other man up, his face pale and eyes glistening with both rage and tears.

Everything about their appearance, their expression, and their manner of walking would leave one to believe that these two should be kept far away from one another. They weren't the stereotypical lovers, walking hand in hand, whispering sweet-nothings, and smiling to each other with hidden secrets. The two men did not describe those lovers and yet you had to believe that they were.  
For there were times when a stray curl would fall into the shorter man's face and those dark, mocking eyes would latch onto it, fingers twitching, not able to focus anymore on the angry, stubborn words.

The pale hand would move forward, softly spread atop that golden brow and gently guide that stray hair back into place. Dark, angry eyes would flutter shut, a shuddering sigh would follow, and the short man would catch the retreating pale hand in his own before it moved too far. A gentle kiss would follow, much sweeter than the overused lover's kiss of the common couple, for this sort of kiss was rarely used and it expressed more than words could ever describe.

The two of them would part, faces calmer than before and they'd continue their trek back down the park path, a little quicker than normal, less space separating them, and small, easy smiles alighting both of their proud faces.  


* * *

A/N: Posted as ordered... XD My finals are over so I'll be working on OoM and the Captured Sylar storyline...As well as anything else that strikes my fancy. 


	33. Mohinder's Weekend Away

A/N: **Sylhindlar Prompt 2 by theJollity off 9thWonders forum: In which Mohinder goes away on a business trip, leaving Molly in Sylar's care.** Difference is...He didn't leave Molly in Sylar's care intentionally...

* * *

"Are you sure you can handle her, Mrs. Doris?" Mohinder asked anxiously, straightening his tie in the doorway and sending worried glances at Molly sitting in the sunlight coloring. 

"Don't you worry Dr. Suresh!" Mrs. Doris, a batty old lady with a bland smile and voice, stated while ushering him out the door. "I've taken care of kids before. We'll be fine."

Mohinder had to go away for a business conference, told to him last minute, and she was the only one who said yes to his early morning pleas. Mohinder didn't know her very well, but he couldn't leave Molly home alone when he would be gone for the weekend. He was kind of edgy but Molly smiled at him and waved him out the door, red crayon still in hand.

* * *

Mrs. Doris sighed as she locked the door; her appearance shimmered to reveal a young, beautiful woman with dark hair, eyes, and a shark toothed smile. Candace whirled around with a smile, expecting to see the little, red haired brat's eyes widened in fear, but the young girl sat drawing, unconcerned. 

"Hello little Molly," Candace greeted, feeling slightly put off by the lack of reaction. "I've come to take you away."

Molly's young mocking eyes briefly left the paper, staring at her with her brow raised before shrugging. "You can try."

Candace bristled; the little brat was mocking her with that superior air and dared to defy her. She strode forward, like an angry cat, and wrenched the crayon from the little girl's hand. Papers went flying, scattered across the room and Candace let her taller form overshadow the little girl.

"There's not going to be a try," Candace smirked; enjoying the fear she saw in little Molly's widening eyes. "You're coming with me!"

"Oh, I wouldn't say that. If she's going anywhere, it'll be with me." A dark, amused from behind her had Candace's hair rising.

She whirled around to see who was there but found her body flying into a wall. She wheezed in pain, feeling her eyes water and looking blurrily at the dark shadow leaning casually against the wall. Molly rose to her feet, backing away slowly from the shadow as it stalked forward, eyes fixed on Candace's face and such devilish eyes they were.

The man was handsome, Candace could see now as she struggled against the invisible hold, and he was smiling so evilly at her. She reached out with her powers, willing the room the change, to bend to her will, but that dark, chilling grin just widened more. He shook his head, chuckling, and pointed his finger at her forehead.

"You're not escaping me." He said before blood flooded Candace's eyes and she screamed in pain, feeling a stab of satisfaction at the slight grimace that clouded that handsome face.

Everything went dark after that and Candace felt the pulls of sleep drag at her mind, warming her and bringing her into a never ending dream of darkness.

* * *

Molly quivered; hiding beside the couch and trying to listen or see what the Boogieman was doing even though she kept getting flashes in her mind. She had seen him coming when Candace had been approaching her. She had seen him come through the door, just missing Mohinder as he left for they went separate ways; the Boogieman went through the window, Mohinder down the stairs. Now Candace was dead and the Boogieman was using her brain to get her power. 

She had to get away, or else she would be next, but Molly didn't know how she could sneak away from Sylar. She silently crept forward from her crouch, keeping her eyes from following the bloody trail and on the back of Boogieman's coat. Her steps were silent, walking through the cooling blood but making only a whisper of a sound. The floorboards creaked slightly under her weight, but the Boogieman was too distracted.

She made it to the door, feeling calmer now that her escape route was in sight and shrieked when a cold, bloody hand landed on her shoulder.

"Where are you going?" The Boogieman asked nonchalantly, clamping his hand over her mouth and lifting her effortlessly into her arms.

Molly couldn't hold back the tears, trembling in her parent's murderer's arms as he walked her back to the couch and set her down gently. Molly quivered, staring through leaking eyes as he glanced around the room. She was puzzled when he didn't kill her right away and bent down to pick up the scattered papers.

"Here," He said roughly, shoving the papers and crayons into her limp arms and picking them up, when she dropped them, with a sigh. "I'm not here to hurt you."

Molly slowly took the offered papers, not believing his words and watched him levitate the body out of the room and out the door. She was tempted to make a run for it, but felt a slight pressure on her limbs. Her body moved on its own violation, spreading the papers out on the coffee table and taking a crayon in hand. The pressure was released slightly, allowing her motion and Molly hesitantly started coloring again, feeling the pressure leave completely.

The Boogieman returned, vanishing into the bathroom, and Molly continued with her scribbling, unable to draw anything else but red lines. He reappeared once more, free of bloody and set about cleaning the apartment with his mental powers. Molly glanced up every now and then, seeing those dark, bushy brows drawn together in concentration. The Boogieman didn't look so scary standing there cleaning, he looked like he was puzzling over a riddle; much like how Mohinder looked when working on his father's code.

The apartment was soon spotless. Looking the exact same as when Mohinder left, if not a little more tidy than usual. The Boogieman sighed; crouching down before the coffee table and watching Molly draw, making her nervous. 

"Are you going to kill me?" She couldn't help but ask, turning her dark and innocent eyes onto his relaxed face.

The Boogieman's eyebrow rose, a small smile quirking those lips, and he replied, "No, I'm not going to kill you."

That stirred Molly's curiosity and she set her well-worn crayon down before asking, "Why not?"

The Boogieman leaned back, allowing his legs to stretch out under the coffee table and brush against her dangling feet on the couch. He shrugged his large shoulders, a large smile spreading to show white teeth, and Molly's own brow furrowed in confusion.

"I have no need to kill you." The Boogieman replied, resting his head in hand and taking up a crayon himself to draw.

"Why don't you leave then?" Molly was as shocked as the Boogieman with her venomous question; her hand moved up to cover her mouth.

That toothy shark grin, reminiscent of the late Candace, smiled up at Molly and she shivered slightly. "Someone has to take care of you."

Molly blinked, it had been Mrs. Doris's voice who replied but she had seen the Boogieman's lips move. She gulped, trying to quell her furious beating heart and used her drawing as a distraction so she wouldn't have to look into those haunting eyes. She wondered how she would last the rest of the weekend and prayed for Mohinder's hasty return.

* * *

Mohinder sighed as he dropped his bag at the front door, toeing off his shoes. He was glad to see the apartment wasn't a complete mess, in fact it look cleaner than he had left it. Molly wasn't in sight and he called out to her, feeling a momentary fear that Sylar had come and murdered her. 

"Molly?" He walked further into the room and jumped when Mrs. Doris hopped out of the shadows.

"I found you little one," Mrs. Doris cried, grabbing his arm and then looking at Mohinder in shock, "Oh, dear me! You aren't little Molly! I'm sorry!"

Mrs. Doris laughed and Mohinder chuckled with her, feeling that she was jollier than when he last saw her Friday night. Molly came skipping down the hall, not yet seeing Mohinder.

"You took forever! And why are you like that Sy—?" Molly's question was cut off by Mrs. Doris's hand and her head was directed to Mohinder.

"Little Molly, your daddy has come home." Mrs. Doris stated, releasing the squealing young girl to pounce into Mohinder's arms. "We had such a fun time. She's an angel."

Mohinder hugged Molly back, confused over why Molly had called Mrs. Doris sometime that sounded suspiciously like 'Sylar'. "What was your first name again?"

Mrs. Doris blinked, looking taken aback and her hand rose over her heart, "Oh, dear me. I forgot to properly introduce myself. My full name is Sylvia Doris."

Mohinder glanced down at Molly, who grinned up at him happily. She wriggled out of his hold and started dragging Mohinder towards a pile of pictures.

"We drew all weekend! And we made cake! Mrs. Doris is a good cook! Can she baby-sit more often?" Molly was a bundle of energy, shoving drawings into his hand and making frantic gestures as she told tales about the fun time she had.

"Well, I better get going." Mrs. Doris excused herself, reaching down to plant a kiss on Molly's cheek and winking at her. "I hope you had a fun trip. You can send Molly over at any time."

"Yes, thank you!" Mohinder exclaimed, rising to his weary feet and showing the strange old lady out. "I'm so glad you could do this on short notice. You have no idea how much this means to me."

Mohinder paused, feeling strange as a familiar look crossed the old ladies eyes and her blue eyes seemed to darken a shade. He blinked it away as the old lady hobbled down the hall and into an apartment two doorways down. Mohinder could have sworn that Mrs. Doris looked vaguely reminiscent of 'Zane Taylor' but that couldn't be true and he couldn't think of it any longer with Molly tugging him back inside.

* * *

Later that night as he crawled into bed, Mohinder was puzzled to find one of his favorite scarves gone and wondered if Mrs. Doris had taken it. He pushed the thought away, figuring Molly must have borrowed it because of its girlish purple and pink coloring, though it was a man scarf. He had no idea that in the late Mrs. Doris's home, Sylar sat with a scarf wrapped over his mouth and nose, inhaling deeply with a lop-sided grin. Also had no idea that Molly was smiling in her sleep, remembering how she had dug around in Mohinder's room with Sylar in search of that very same scarf.

* * *

A/N: This is what happens when Wp isn't around to distract me...or convince me not to write something like this...because I would have shown it to Wp before posting...but they were gone. (sigh) If anyone's wondering...I'm not entirely sane or sober right now... 


	34. Mohinder's Caught

A/N: Continuation from chapter 30...The captured Sylar scenario. Not exactly what I wanted...but meh...Has Mylarness in it.

* * *

Mohinder tried to keep his footfalls silent, though the bare flesh of his feet sounded loudly in his ears while slapping against hard, cement flooring. The night shadows surrounded him as he moved, making Mohinder want to wrap his arms around his freezing frame because it seemed like the building's furnace was down, like its electricity. Fear kept Mohinder's arms out reaching, feeling along the wall to know his way through the darkness. The wall alerted him to hallway's starting or doorways appearing, helping Mohinder located himself using his mental map of the building. 

Cool drafts that blew from hallway openings sending goose bumps spiraling across his dark, sweaty skin. Mohinder felt even more vulnerable with his naked skin exposed, more easily killable because the target of his heart was in clear view to creature that could see in the dark. The rational side of his mind told Mohinder to keep moving, but each step brought more fear and his hope of escaping was almost non-existent. With no sign of life for the twenty minutes he had walked, Mohinder knew he wouldn't be saved, knew that Peter couldn't do anything to help him; yet he still continued walking.

He whirled around when he felt warm air brush against the back of his neck and the sudden movement caused him to stumble over something hard on the floor. There was nothing behind him, save for a dark, empty hallway, and Mohinder tried to calm his breathing, bring his mind back from the terror it had suffered. His dark eyes landed on a corpse, lying with its head at an odd angle, the object he had stumbled over. Mohinder squinted hard at the face, recognizing the guard he talked to regularly during lunch breaks. This man who also believed Sylar should be dead, the man who now lay discarded on the floor to be feasted on by rats.

He shivered as a memory invaded his thoughts of that one time this guard, a man he never knew the name of, had brought Sylar in and Mohinder started talking to him. Sylar's cold, drugged eyes were watching, calculating, as Mohinder patted the man's shoulder in his trademark gesture of friendship. Mohinder had known at the back of his mind that this man had been marked dead, knew he had meant it to happen, knew he wanted to make Sylar jealous of the power he no longer had; power over Mohinder's life. His eyes were burning with unshed tears as he closed the guards blank eyes, guilt pulsed through his veins for what he had done; how he had damned another person to hell in his struggle against Sylar, a battle that already had a victor.

Another shiver wracked his body as Mohinder fisted his hands in the guard jacket, noticing no blood on it. He start removing the coat, wanting security of clothes and the little warmth offered but the weight of cool metal paused Mohinder's motions. His eyes widened a fraction, hands wrapping around the handle of the gun and excitement coursed through his heart for a brief moment. The gun weighed heavily in his grip, locked and loaded. Mohinder could use it to defend himself against Sylar or to kill himself now; it took no thoughts for Mohinder knew the former idea was foolish and impossible.

Mohinder pressed the gun hard against his temple, indenting skin so he knew he wouldn't miss. Seconds went by as he sat there, working up the nerve, and when the moment finally came, his trigger finger twitching, Mohinder promptly froze in place. Not of his own violation, of course, but from a will more powerful than his own. Mohinder's eyes fell shut in dismay as he realized the trap he had allowed himself to fall into and the soft tapping of feet echoed off the walls behind him.

"You sure you want to do that?" Sylar's voice was soft, almost gentle and caring, but Mohinder could feel the amusement seeping through his back as his shaking body rose on its own.

The gun dropped from Mohinder's hold, clattering noisily on the ground. Mohinder wanted to believe that it fell due to Sylar's command, but he knew he had just given Sylar back his control. Sylar had staged this whole thing to see what Mohinder would do. Had given Mohinder the control over his life, briefly allowing himself to choose if he wanted life or death and Mohinder had chosen himself unworthy of life. Now it was Sylar's turn to prove him wrong, just as before when Mohinder said the monster couldn't be loved and yet his heart now skipped with each closer step.

"Hello Mohinder." Sylar's cooed, as if he hadn't been about to kill himself.

Mohinder felt strong arms wrapping around his waist from behind, the rough feel of cotton warming his chilled skin. He didn't want to feel the joy swelling in his heart, but a gentle kiss to his temple pulled a sigh from his lips.

"Did you have a nice sleep? You looked so peaceful last I saw you." Mohinder tried to jerk away as the memory of Nathan's death returned, but Sylar pulled him closer.

"I missed being able to touch you, Mohinder." Sylar mused, trailing kisses down Mohinder's sweating neck and sharp teeth biting down over Nathan's previous marks; drawing blood and laying claim.

Those strong, warm hands trailed possessively down Mohinder's quivering frame and grasped hold of his hardening erection. With firm rough strokes, Sylar had Mohinder bucking into his hand whimpering with need and despair, cursing Sylar's with hungry moans. Sylar laughter curled in Mohinder's ear, mocking him for his weakness and driving him further towards release. Just before he reached the end, his body vibrating with need, Sylar pulled away; leaving Mohinder on fallen knees, unable to bring himself to release due to Sylar's invisible hold.

"Peter's here." Sylar explained, vanishing into the shadows to go meet his prey.

* * *

A/N: Not fully edited, point out errors. 


	35. Horrible Scarf

Prompt: Sylar buys Mohinder a scarf for his birthday and he hates it

* * *

Sylar fiddled with the ribbon of his carefully wrapped parcel, making sure it looked absolutely perfect before unlocking the apartment's front door. It had taken him several hours of tortuous shopping to find something he thought Mohinder might enjoy for his birthday. 

He had no previous experience shopping for scarves and had drifted into that insane and unknown world after failing to find any book titles he couldn't remember being on Mohinder's bookshelf or scattered around the living room. There were so many scarves, so many colors, that Sylar had to spend a full five minutes blinking in order to adjust to them all.

There were silk scarves, scratchy scarves, velvet scarves, cotton scarves, red scarves, blue scarves, orange polka dots scarves and millions more; all on display with yellow lights making them brighter and blinding to unsuspecting customers. He had cringed as he wandered along the displays, trying to avoid the all-too-helpful sales clerk who followed him around like a lovesick puppy dog.

_"Can I help you?" _

_"No."_

_" Looking for something for your girlfriend?"_

_"No, my boyfriend."_

_"Guys really buy things for their buddies? Cool! I think you'll like red." _

_"Too…frilly."_

_"How about this purple and pink one?" _

_"He has one already."_

_"This maroon one really suits you."_

_"I'm not buying for myself."_

Her voice was too high pitched and had Sylar wincing with each sentence, hoping his short and unhelpful answers would send her away. She tagged along the whole time, offering suggestions, forcing him to try scarves on (nearly strangling him once), and just being overly annoying. Sylar was tempted to kill her; he had never wanted someone dead as much as then but he also didn't want to ruin Mohinder's birthday by breaking his long kept promise of not murdering anyone who wasn't an immediate threat to their family's survival.

Sylar had eventually settled on a deep purple colored scarf, it was not at all boyish, making him think Mohinder might like it, and it also didn't hurt his eyes looking at it in his hands, whereas other scarves of Mohinder's made his eyes tear up when they were wrapped around Mohinder's neck. For some reason his boyfriend could make ugly things look very fashionable, Sylar suspected before that it might be a super power but he was unwilling to open his boyfriends brain to find out if that were true.

Mohinder was in the same spot Sylar had left him early that morning, in front of the computer screen, only he had a tub of Karamel Sutra ice cream which he was heartily digging into with a spoon. Since his dear doctor hadn't glanced up when he came in, Sylar crept forward to surprise him, keeping the present out of sight behind his back.

Sylar was about to grab Mohinder's shoulder, hoping the smaller man would scream in surprise, but his eyes were momentarily distracted by the list that was scrolling down the screen. It was a bad habit but Sylar still bent forward, memorizing all the names before his eyes, and didn't expect Mohinder to suddenly sit back and have that curly head collide with his nose.

"Ow!" Sylar yelped, causing Mohinder to jump and whirl around, rubbing the back of his head.

"Sylar, when did you get home?" Mohinder asked, looking as though he were just waking up and accidentally dropping his ice cream.

The young Indian bent down picking it up as Sylar rubbed his nose grumbling, refusing to let the pained tears fall down his face. Mohinder placed the ice cream down and pulled Sylar forward to kiss his reddened nose better.

"Sorry, I didn't know you were there." Mohinder apologized pulling Sylar into a quick hug as he stood up stretching. "Where did you go anyways?"

Sylar winced at the sound of Mohinder's cracking spine, his lover had really bad posture when on the computer but he shook it away. He was too late at hiding the gift again, having pulled it into view when his nose was smacked, and Sylar saw Mohinder's eyes brighten at the sight.

"You were shopping? Is that for me?" Mohinder's heart melting smile appeared on his face, blinding Sylar with its glorious light and making him see black spots as though he were looking at the sun.

Mohinder used the moment, having successfully stunned his boyfriend, to grab the gift and tear off the wrappings. Sylar finally cleared his vision to see Mohinder pull off the box's top, looking down eagerly into it. He waited for the blinding smile, counting off seconds and putting them off as shock, but soon it became evident (after three and a half minutes) that something wasn't right.

"It's nice." Mohinder stated, not able to meet Sylar's eyes as he hugged his boyfriend once more.

"You don't like it." Sylar stated dryly, feeling his heart plummet down to the bottom of his feet and tears prickling at his eyes.

"I do." Mohinder said probably too forcefully, as if trying to convince himself rather than his boyfriend, "I do Sylar…It's just…Purple?"

"Purple's a nice color," Sylar stated slowly, watching Mohinder pull the scarf out and let it dangle from his hand lifelessly.

"But it's so dark." Mohinder replied, what sounded like a whine coloring his cultured voice. "Why couldn't it have been brighter; Orchid or Lilac or even Fuchsia would have been better than this Indigo color."

Sylar was marveling at his boyfriend's knowledge of the different colors of purple and then felt stupid because of course Mohinder would have knowledge about these things; it was his clothes color passion.

"I'm sorry." Sylar sighed, feeling horrible for not getting his boyfriend a good gift and also for wasting so many hours in that store. "I thought you'd like it."

Mohinder frowned, watching his boyfriend's shoulders slump dejectedly as he picked up the tub of what was left of the ice cream and dug in. He felt bad for criticizing the gift, but he couldn't really imagine himself wearing it, it wasn't flashy enough for him.

"Well it's the thought that counts." Mohinder sighed, moving over to his moping boyfriend and giving him a comforting pat on the shoulder. "I'm sure we could find use for this…this thing."

As if in answer their momentary problem, the front door burst open with a sniffling Molly clambering through. Her cute little nose and cheeks were red from the cold wind and her teeth chattered as she stumbled out of her boots.

"Molly! What are you doing home?" Mohinder exclaimed, scooping his little girl up into his strong, warm arms.

"I forgot to bring something for show and tell." Molly replied, sneezing into her hands and snuggling into the warmth. "I just don't know what to bring though."

Both her father's stared at her worriedly, fearing she was going to get a cold and then both their eyes landed on the scarf in realization. They sent knowing grin's at each other, Mohinder already knowing that the scarf would look so good on his little girl and Sylar because the gift would at least make Molly happy.

"Well, you could show off your new present." Sylar stated, taking Molly from Mohinder's arms and draping the scarf around her head.

Molly's eyes widened at the gift, an excited squeal escaping her lips. "You bought me a present!"

"It's from both of us." Mohinder interjected, not wanting to be left out of the thank you hugs that would soon follow.

Molly's eyes sparkled in delight and she tugged the scarf more tightly around her head, rubbing against the fabric like a little kitten. She then gave Sylar a huge hug, wriggling out of his hold to give Mohinder a hug as well while repeatedly saying thank you.

"Wait, isn't it your birthday?" Molly asked, tilting her head like a puppy in confusion.

Mohinder smiled sweetly at her, letting his hand clear the wayward strands of hair from her face. "It is. That's why we're going out for supper when you get home."

"Really?" Molly was bouncing on the balls of her feet, fingers playing with the end of the now very cute scarf.

"Yes, now you better get to school." Sylar stated, shooing their daughter out the door and sending another grin at his lover.

Mohinder sighed in relief and feeling glad that he wouldn't have to worry about that scarf anymore, Molly would probably lose it in a couple weeks. Sylar came up behind him again while he was lost in thought and successfully startled him with a kiss on the cheek.

"Happy Birthday," Sylar whispered, pulling Mohinder towards the bedroom. "I'll make up for that gift now if you want."

Mohinder couldn't fight his grin from spreading across his face, blinding Sylar once more and causing him to crash into the door frame. Mohinder couldn't help but think, as he kicked the bedroom door shut, that he'd really enjoy this gift more than that dreadful Indigo scarf Sylar had gotten him for his birthday.

* * *


	36. Prank Gift

A/N: Follow up to the last prompt only this time it's Sylar hating a scarf Mohinder buys him.

* * *

Sylar stared into the box, his left eye twitching as they absorbed and were repulsed by the hideous colors. He was very glad Mohinder was busy putting away the dinner dishes; it would crush the poor man to see Sylar's face twisted in a look of agony and disgust. Unfortunately for him, Molly was sitting there, licking off the last chocolate icing off her fork and staring at Sylar with big wide eyes.

"So how was your day at school Molly?" Mohinder's voice jolted Sylar from his momentary staring contest with the young girl (him trying to mentally send a message that she'd keep her mouth shut), and he turned to see his lover standing with a dish towel dangling over his right shoulder.

That warm, familiar hand had found its way into Sylar's hair, smoothing away the strands and causing Sylar to feel even worse. He could stand looking down at the striped scarf colored with blue, green, orange, and red. The fabric felt scratchy under his hand and he carefully set the box aside, unable to meet Mohinder's eyes and hoping the other man didn't ask him what he thought of the gift.

As a distraction, to hopefully keep Mohinder's future question away, Sylar pulled Molly's 'Winnie the Pooh' wrapped present closer and tore the wrapping to shreds.

It took all of Mohinder's efforts to not burst out laughing at his lover's reaction. He knew Sylar wouldn't like the scarf, he had bought it intentionally to see what the quiet ex-murderer would do and he wasn't being disappointed. Molly sent him secretive smile as Sylar tore the next present open, hesitating at pulling up the identical box that Mohinder's own gift had come in.

Within the box were identical wool socks, a perfect match to the scarf. Sylar's pale skin had a sheen of perspiration, his gaze roving to meet Molly's and his face paling even more. The usually composed man tried to smile in joy, but it came out like a grimace. Mohinder tried to contain his laughter as Sylar tried to voice some great exclamation of joy, but it was getting increasingly difficult when little's Molly face started turning red from her own efforts to contain laughter.

"It's…I really…Where did you get this? This is…Well…Very ni—well…good?" Sylar was floundering, his face cringing every time he looked into the box.

Molly failed then, head smacking the table as her little form erupted into giggles. Mohinder couldn't hold it in very longer, he had to use Sylar's chair as support as he moved to soothe the pain on Molly's sore forehead. His poor lover was sitting bewildered, reaching forward to catch Molly before she rolled to the floor and also holding Mohinder up when his legs gave way.

"What's going on?" Sylar demanded while shaking Mohinder, who rested his head on Sylar's shoulder as his body was racked with giggles.

"Your--Hahaha…Face! Ahahaha…Priceless!" Mohinder gasped, reaching up to kiss Sylar briefly on the lips before falling back into giggles.

"We should…Hahaha…Have--haha…photographed…" Molly couldn't even finish, she pounded her tiny fist on the table and let her crinkled, tear-filled eyes rest on Sylar's outraged face.

"You did this on purpose!" Sylar tried sounding angry, but it was really difficult when he had his lover pressed against him, laughing his head off with the most beautiful laughter Sylar ever had the pleasure of hearing.

"Sorry," Mohinder gasped, "We couldn't---hah---resist."

"Do I have to wear them?" Sylar asked fearfully, sending a frightened and horrified glance at the hideous scarf and socks.

"Well of course." Mohinder stated, his laughter subsiding and a stern face taking over. "We bought them for you. It'd be rude not to wear them."

Sylar looked horrified once more and Mohinder chuckled merrily, swatting his boyfriend on the head for believing the lie.

"Of course you don't have to wear them." Mohinder crowed, kissing those pouty lips once more and reaching to close both the boxes. "We kept the receipts; you can exchange them for something else tomorrow."

Sylar pulled Mohinder to him once more, devouring the lips in a kiss of gratitude and getting the customary 'Eww! Get a room!" from Molly who ran out of the room in another fit of giggles.

"I love you." Sylar muttered between kisses, feeling greatly relieved.

"Of course you do, Mr. Sylar." Mohinder chuckled, batting away wander hands and slipping from Sylar's grip. "None of that now; I have to do dishes first."

Sylar nodded, moving back to sit down at the table and glaring at the horrible boxes. He listened to Molly's television show as Mohinder clattered around the sink, putting dishes in their respective cupboards.

"You know," Sylar started, listening to hear Mohinder pause in his cleaning. "You probably could have used scarves instead."

"What are you talking about?" Mohinder wondered, moving back into the dining room and staring at Sylar with an eyebrow raised.

"When I was pretending to be Zane," Sylar answered, waiting for the Mohinder's stiffened form to relax before continuing. "If you had made me try on your wardrobe, instead of using that tuning fork, I probably would have given myself over to the police."

Mohinder looked thoughtful, setting the dish towel down and sitting in the seat next to Sylar's. "You know, that probably would have worked. Even back then you commented on how much you disliked my clothes."

Sylar smirked, his face taking on more color and an almost wolfish appearance. "You really have poor taste in color."

Mohinder used the slightly wet dish towel to slap at Sylar's defensive hand and stood up to return to his task.

"My choice in colors is fine." He stated huffily, "You just don't like me in clothes at all, makes you have to use your imagination."

Sylar laughed because he had to agree; Mohinder looked much better without any clothes on at all.

* * *

A/N: Shouldn't be anything new in this drabble section until I finish the stuff I'm doing for my other story. 


	37. Strip Poker

A/N: Finishing some prompts I was given at the 9th Wonders forums.

**Syhindlar Prompt #4: In which Sylar gives Mohinder a reason to be shirtless (aside from sex). **

* * *

Mohinder stared down at his hand, still not entirely sure how Sylar had convinced him to play this game in the first place anyways; he wasn't very good at it. It must have been the alcohol Sylar had given him, or maybe it was that seductive, pouty look. Whatever it was, Mohinder was now cursing himself for agreeing because the cards he possessed were not going to help him win anytime soon and he doubted trading for a new set would help because he tended to usually get lower when doing that.

Glancing around the group, Mohinder tried to gauge what kind of cards the other players had. Peter's face was grinning, kind of like a Cheshire cat, as he sat in only his pants, and one sock, after having lost two rounds earlier on in the game. Peter noticed him checking out his body and sent a sloppy wink his way, causing Claude to roll his eyes at the man sitting mostly on his lap.

Claude held his cards out easily out of Peter's view, piled on top of each other and resting on his knee. The scruffy, gruff man had yet to lose a round, along with Sylar, but had removed his filthy outer jacket before sitting down with his case of beer to play after an hour of Peter whining. Mohinder wondered how the man was so lucky; he didn't seem to have much luck with money for he was homeless, and yet he was tied for winning the game.

A heated glare had Mohinder glancing away, not wanting to be caught staring and his gaze met Sylar's smoldering stare. Sylar sat nonchalantly, resting his arm wrapped around his folded knee, dangling the cards with a loose grip. The tight, form-fitting black shirt showed off his muscles hidden beneath and Mohinder felt his mouth water at the thought of pale skin. He found himself wanting Sylar to lose, wanting to see that shirt come off but he had no luck at all.

Mohinder glanced back away from the stare, after Sylar had raised his eyebrow suggestively, and turned back to staring at his cards. He was already down to his thin nightshirt and boxers, being the worst player of this game. Something about the quickly explained rules had eluded his fuzzy, drunken mind at first and that had resulted in him losing his jacket, his pants, both socks, his t-shirt, and from the looks of it he was heading towards losing his shirt.

"Okay everyone, place your bets." Soft spoken Hiro stated, after asking if any exchanges were to be made.

Hiro was looking quite content for being nominated the dealer and not having to lose his clothes. Ando sat next to him and gave explanations in Japanese in between watching videos on Mohinder's laptop; Mohinder really hoped he didn't have a huge bill at the end of the month as he watched that face stretch into a lustful smile.

"I bet my left sock." Sylar stated, grinning at Mohinder's glare.

"My boxe--" Peter was cut off by the rough hand covering his mouth.

"Th' kid bets hi' sock. I bet mah shirt." Claude slurred, elbowing the squirming Peter who tried biting his hand.

"My shirt," Mohinder stated, taking another drink of beer in order to ignore Sylar's wolfish grin.

"Anyone want to trade cards?" Hiro asked, staring innocently around the group and Mohinder wondered again why such a childish man was invited to this party.

"Okay, reveal hands!" He cheered when no one spoke up.

Everyone revealed their cards; Peter crowing for finally beating Claude and Sylar smirked as he saw his was the highest. Everyone turned to stare at Mohinder as he hesitated at placing his own five cards down.

"Come on, Mohinder. Show your hand!" Peter wagged his finger at Mohinder before toppling over onto Claude in a fit of giggles.

Mohinder blinked down at his cards again, eyes not quite focusing anymore, and then laid them down. His hand was the lowest of all, again, and he looked over to Sylar who gave a cheer of his own.

"Go for boxers!" Peter called, forgetting about the earlier bet, and having to be silence by Claude's silencing lips.

Sylar sat back in his seat, looking smug and swaying slightly from the alcohol. His dark, intense gaze watched Mohinder raptly as the Indian man struggled to remove his shirt without spilling his beer in hand. The bottom of his sleeveless shirt started to lift up on its own, getting help from Sylar's telekinesis, and Mohinder obediently raised his arms to allow the fabric to slide off and complete his betting deal. Peter pulled away from kissing Claude to give an appreciative whistle at the view before being pulled back by Claude's rough hands.

The two of them flickered out of view as Mohinder started flushing under Sylar's approving stare. Hiro gathered up the cards, as was his job, and looked at the clock which read two in the morning.

"Ano…Ando-kun. We should get going." Mohinder watched him the two of them leave and in that moment of distraction, Sylar had soundlessly moved forward to capture his lips.

"We should get going as well," Sylar breathed, pulling away from the kiss and dragging his lover up.

"Nngh…Yeah," Mohinder agreed as his half-lidded gaze moved over to where the apartment owner should have been sitting, but they didn't appear to bid them farewell.

Sylar pulled Mohinder towards the door, grabbing the pile of clothes in one hand and wrapping his arm around Mohinder's waist with the other. They stumbled out of the apartment, Mohinder curling into Sylar's warm shoulder and wishing the other man would give him his clothes.

"Can I put my shirt on?" He asked, reaching for the clothes Sylar dangled out of reach.

Sylar smirked, not replying at all and still keeping the clothes away. Mohinder was very glad that there was no one around; it'd be humiliating to be scene in his state of dress.

"But it's cold." The boxer clad man whined, stumbling before Sylar unsteadily and poking him on the chest.

Sylar swooped down and kissed pouting lips and Mohinder pulled away glaring, hoping that would inspire Sylar to give him back his clothes. When only a chuckle came in reaction, Mohinder sprung forward to reach for the clothes once more. He missed the cloth and stumbled on unsteady feet, flopping onto the ground and scraping his knee. Sylar finally stopped his drunken laughter when he noticed Mohinder hadn't risen from the ground and tears were falling from those eyes.

"Oh, I'm sorry Mo-mo," Sylar cooed, unable to stand seeing his lover cry and he kneeled down to pull Mohinder's jacket around bare shoulders. "You just looked so adorable."

Mohinder grinned into the hug Sylar was giving him, knowing the other man couldn't resist his tears and pulled away when he knew he could keep the smile off his face. "You're being a big meanie." He whined, using Molly's acting skills because those worked best against Sylar's wit.

Sylar's face was devastated, obviously affected by the alcohol he consumed, and he looked close to tears while petting Mohinder's hair and apologizing some more.

"I'm so sorry!" Sylar started trying to dress Mohinder with the rest of his clothes and Mohinder couldn't help it anymore; he burst into giggles.

"I can dress myself," Mohinder complained, pushing Sylar's hands away as they tried putting on his socks.

Sylar stopped in his task and glanced at Mohinder's laughing face, breaking out into a grin of his own while asking hopefully, "You're not really mad at me."

Mohinder answered with a kiss, still giggling and having to pull away sooner to keep breathing. Sylar wouldn't accept only one kiss as an answer and that stirred more giggles out of Mohinder, making them exchange at least thirty butterfly kisses before Ando and Hiro came upon them.

"Are you okay?" Hiro asked, holding Mohinder's laptop protectively to his chest while blushing slightly at the scene.

Ando rolled his eyes, hooking his hand around Hiro's elbow and dragging him away from the strange scene. Hiro somehow managed to carefully set the computer down before being pulled away and the distraction was enough to sober Mohinder up. He dressed himself up in his pants, socks, and shoes but decided to just keep the jacket hanging limply on his shoulders. With shirt in one hand, Mohinder entwined his fingers with Sylar's and took off towards the apartment with wobbly, stumbling steps.

* * *


	38. Would I Look Good In That Dress?

A/N: Wow...been a long time since I've updated here...;

Prompt: _**"Sylar! What are you doing? gasp You were staring at her brain, weren't you?"  
**  
**Here's the prompt: You start the story off like I did - Charlie is their waitress, Sylar is staring at her brain, Mohinder catches him and says the above quote. Then, you say how Sylar reacts - how Mohinder reacts to Sylar's "excuse," how the lunch ends, etc.**_

* * *

"What can I get for ya'll?" The pretty red-headed waitress inquired, pulling Mohinder and Sylar from their staring contest of getting lost in each other's eyes.

"Oh, uh…" Mohinder stuttered, picking up his discarded menu and searching through it, not even answering the waitress.

Sylar smirked at his flustered boyfriend and casually turned to the waitress, about to tell her they needed more time, when his innate ability screamed out at him.

_This woman was special, she has an ability. _His mind shouted, stirring an old hunger that Sylar mostly tried to forget.

The red-head smiled nervously at his intense gaze, shifting her wait so she leaned back from him. After a while of scrutiny, she muttered a quiet 'I'll give you more time' and quick stepped over to another table, sending uneasy glances back.

Sylar watched her go, his mouth watering and the need to take, to covet, clouded his mind. Mohinder finally found something appetizing, the pancake special, and glance up to find Sylar staring intently away from the table and not at his own pretty face.

"Sylar?" He asked, letting his eyes follow his lover's gaze; drifting over the bright, warming features of the sunlit diner.

The only person Sylar could be watching was their waitress, unless he was admiring the spice rack which Mohinder highly doubted. She was fairly attractive, a cute face and cute accent but she wasn't as pretty as Mohinder so it couldn't be her looks that caught Sylar's attention. With some quick thinking using his powerful, analytic mind Mohinder came to two conclusions.

Sylar was watching her because he wanted her dress, which wasn't unreasonable because Sylar did like trying on woman's clothing because it made him feel as pretty as Mohinder, or the waitress had a special genetic code, which was Mohinder's biggest rival over getting Sylar's attention.

After watching the waitress a little longer, checking out her dress and trying to imagine Sylar in it, Mohinder figured the waitress had a special power. It also helped that she stated quite clearly, for the whole restaurant to hear, the credit card numbers for three of her customers who tried to make her guess it again in exchange for free food.

After writing all the numbers down on a napkin, Mohinder turned to his now drooling boyfriend and smacked him with the menu.

"Sylar! What are you doing? You were staring at her brain, weren't you?" Mohinder asked with a mock-gasp of horror when his boyfriend turned dazed eyes onto him.

"Huh? Wha—No! No I wasn't!" Sylar denied, his face reddening slightly in shame and embarrassment. "I was…I was staring at her…her…um…dress?"

"Her dress?" Mohinder asked, starting to feel like maybe he was wrong after all.

"Yeah…It's really pretty, with white polka dots on dark navy blue. Don't you think I'd look good in it?" Sylar gestured to the dress, wiping the drool with his hand once Mohinder's gaze was off him.

Mohinder admired the dress, thinking that it looked a little small for someone Sylar's size. After a moment of starring he started thinking that the dress looked familiar, he had seen it before this but he couldn't imagine where. With more thinking and lots of tilting his head from side to side and squirming in the booth to keep the dress in sight, Mohinder had an image of Sylar posing in the bedroom mirror flash in his mind.

"Hey!" He exclaimed, turning around from sitting on his knees and catching Sylar starring at his rear. "You already have a dress like that!"

Sylar blinked; his face paling as he took another look at the waitress and realized that yes, he did have that dress. He searched his mind for another excuse, sinking deeper into his seat from Mohinder's heated glare.

"Well, yes I do." He admitted, "But I was really wondering if I'd…look good in a red wig with it on."

Mohinder sat there blankly, not even sure if he wanted to think about his boyfriend getting in the habit of wearing wigs. Then his boyfriend would really become a drag queen and maybe start even wearing his Molly's make up.

"That's, well…" Mohinder floundered, trying to think of a way to convince his already questionable-habit boyfriend to not get any weirder.

Sylar waited, hoping his boyfriend would buy his lie. He forced himself to ignore the waitress and her pretty, pretty brain. Sylar instead focused on watching Mohinder's eye lashes flutter as they stared hard at the table top, watch the way those chocolate curls bounced slightly with the breeze of the ceiling fan.

"I don't think red will suit you." Mohinder finally blurted out, letting his eyes drift up and get trapped in Sylar's dreamy stare.

They were once again caught up in each other, unable to look away and when the waitress returned Mohinder muttered, very much like a zombie, that they just wanted coffee.

The waitress returned with coffee and it sat untouched for ten minutes before both men rose and left without a word, without looking away from each other, leaving fifty dollars behind on the table.

* * *


	39. Dishwasher Problems

Prompt: **Story starter:_ "Not the dishwasher again..."_ Story ender:_ "...Boom!"_**

* * *

"Not the dishwasher again..." Mohinder groaned, hearing the telltale groaning as the machine whirled to a stop. It was the ninth time that month it broke down and Mohinder was tired of having to call the repair man to fix it.

Molly watched her father kick the machine angrily with his toe, opening it up and getting sloshed with water. She quietly sipped her milk, trying not to snort as Mohinder erupted into a storm of Tamil and English curse words.

"Why don't you call Sy—Gabriel?" She wondered out loud, giving the glass a disappointed glance when the straw refused to relinquish anymore milk; it had all vanished too quickly.

Mohinder sighed, running a hand through his hair and cursing once more when his fingers got tangled in the curls. "He's out of town." Mohinder grunted, wincing as he pulled hair in order to free his hand.

"If you called he'd come." Molly stated in a matter of fact tone, hopping down from her chair to get more milk. "He always drops everything for you."

"I don't want to bother him." Mohinder muttered darkly, starting to search for a phonebook.

"You just don't want him to find out you've been calling repair men instead of him." Molly frowned, wondering why her father didn't just give up already. "Sy—Gabriel isn't going to be very happy when he finds out."

"I really don't want to bother him and he won't find out if you don't tell him." Mohinder sent his daughter a glance, not quite pleading but getting close to it, and flipped through the book spying company's he hadn't already called.

Molly poured herself another glass of milk, listening to Mohinder repeat his problem once more to another company. She was just about ready to just call Sylar to come home; it would make life at home easier. She didn't know why Mohinder kept insisting on calling someone else, a normal person wouldn't be able to fix their dishwasher after what Sylar did to it.

"Can you come right away? That's great. I'll be home." Mohinder sighed happily, hanging up the phone as Molly rolled her eyes.

The repairman came and went, the dishwasher broke down with the first load (as Molly expected it would).

"What's wrong with you?" Mohinder growled, pounding the machine with his fist.

"Just call Sylar!" Molly yelled from the living room where she'd been happily munching on skittles and M&Ms while she drew.

"He'll be busy!" Mohinder yelled back.

"No he won't!" Molly slammed her crayon down, rising to enter the kitchen.

"I don't want to!" Mohinder yelled as she entered.

"I don't care! Call him anyway!" Molly smiling for a moment as Mohinder jumped, not knowing she was behind him.

They stared at each other, Molly gestured silently to the phone and Mohinder shook his head and responded, "I'll just do the dishes myself."

Molly groaned at the ceiling, unable to believe her adoptive father was so stubborn. She stormed out of the kitchen, hearing dishes clunk down into the sink in a destructive manner. Once seated on the couch, she reached into her backpack and pulled out the cell phone she was given in case of an emergency.

"Hello?" Sylar's voice asked, sounding alarmed.

"Hi Sylar?" She chirped back, hearing the other man grumble at hearing his old name used.

"We've been over this; it's Gabriel now, not Sylar." Sylar's voice was weary; he didn't want to be associated with that old name because 'Sylar' was still a wanted criminal and he was trying to live peacefully with his new family.

"I'm sorry. I forgot." Molly apologized, wincing as she heard a shattering of glass and Mohinder's yell of anger.

"Is everything okay? Was that glass breaking?" Sylar asked; Molly knew he didn't need an answer because he could probably hear Mohinder cursing.

"Mohinder's being stubborn. He's called ten companies already to fix whatever you did to the dishwasher." Molly frowned when she heard Sylar chuckle.

"Did he now? Why doesn't he just call me?" Sylar obviously was expecting this outcome and that aggravated Molly.

"Like I said, he's being stubborn. Just come home now, I'm getting tired of this. He's going to hurt himself."

"Fine, I'll come home. Make sure he doesn't slip on the floor and cut himself." As Sylar said this, Molly heard the sound of thudding as Mohinder did do what Sylar just said.

"You've jinxed him." Molly accused, turning off the phone and rushing to help her father. She couldn't believe how clumsy Mohinder was when he tried doing housework; it was like the man was cursed.

Molly had Mohinder bandaged and resting on the couch when Sylar's telltale five knocks pounded on the door. Sylar came into the apartment, not even waiting for Molly to answer the door, and gave his boyfriend a look.

"You couldn't even call me." He sighed, shaking his head as Mohinder ducked his head sheepishly. "Hopefully you didn't trash the kitchen too badly while I was gone."

Sylar had the kitchen and dishes done in no time and then forced Mohinder to make it up to him for not calling and smashing his mother's old china set. Molly happily spent her time alone watching Pg-13 movies and drinking more milk; she always got to do what she wanted when Sylar was around for he kept Mohinder distracted.

She bounced into the kitchen, setting her cup into the dishwasher and closing it up. She headed back to the living room, not knowing that Sylar hadn't gotten around to fixing the machine yet. Over the loud speakers of the tv came a loud grinding noise that had Sylar rushing out of the bedroom in a flurry of panicked movement.

"It's not fixed yet!" He yelled, running in only his boxer shorts.

Sylar dashed into the kitchen, reaching for the machine but couldn't turn it off in time. Soap suds and broken machinery went flying as the machine exploded with a very loud, "BOOM!"

* * *


	40. Five Years Gone Prompt

**Syhindlar Prompt #3: In which Sylar begins to impersonate President Nathan after killing both him and Candice, and presidential advisor Mohinder doesn't notice…or does he?**

* * *

It takes so much effort for Sylar to not tap his pen irritably against the smooth, freshly polished desktop; Nathan never does that, he sits straight with attentive, piercing eyes at all times. It's not Sylar's fault he got in the habit, during his couple months being an aide, of rapping a pencil against anything solid. All was used to show his youth, his inexperience and impatience, but now it is ingrained. Sylar has caught himself close to rapping twice already and it was starting to get on his nerves. 

With clenched teeth, a perfect moment to grimace because it was at the time of the briefing where casualties were listed, Sylar focused on placing the pen down on the table and far away from his fidgety fingers. He focused on the old, stupid looking sergeant making up excuses, trying to convince him why the military failed to prevent the attack against the nation's second most valuable research facilities. The headache pounded at his temples, he tried to focus on each word and not let the pain bother him, not lose his focus.

At first Sylar had felt the power he gained to be blessing. He could manipulate what other's saw, change the features of a room or even his own body. He had taken this ability from the very young, slightly obese, and completely broken little girl who tried living a grown up life and failed at completing the task Sylar succeeded in; replacing President Petrelli. It was glorious to have so much control, to be able to fool people so easily, but Sylar had found a problem with his plans right before his oval office was invaded by his spineless, apologetic government officials.

The eidetic memory he had attained was not mixing very well with this new ability. It retained the information from his old form, the old habits he had, and tried to bring them into Nathan's. The optimism, wit and cheer, of the blonde aide, which he crafted in order to get into higher positions to get closer to Nathan, was trying to mix with the late Petrelli's stern and unforgiving nature.

Nathan didn't crack jokes. Nathan didn't fidget or ask how the family was doing. He didn't joke about which intern looked hottest with his fellow employees or talk about his latest dates. Nathan sat still, he glared, and barked out orders no questions asked. Such a stiff collared man Nathan was but Sylar fit into the roll very nicely; it was easy to be gruff and rude when surrounded by a bunch of idiots.

Sylar stared out at the crowd, trying to ignore the feel of the illusion sliding over his skin, trying to change back to his normal form, as it liked to do whenever he changed identities. Leaning deeper into the desk chair, Sylar watched his secretary of defense make up excuses over why the military failed. He let his eyes flicker from the reddened, sweaty and very ugly face to rest on Matt Parkman, a man paying almost too close attention to Sylar's posture..

Matt was such an annoying and very useful person to have on the governmental team. He was extremely loyal to Nathan's cause, taking great pleasure in hunting down the specials and delivering to the research facilities (straight into Sylar's hands). The only problem he posed was that he could read minds, something that was dangerous to Sylar's position if it weren't for the Haitian. The Haitian had so far been accompanying Matt whenever they met alone together, only twice since he started impersonating the president.

As long as those meetings continued in such a way, Sylar was sure he could keep up this masquerade until a time where Matt would have no choice but to follow along; he'd see that Sylar was way better at running a country than the late president and not want to change things. Sylar was sure Matt would join his side; he already expressed joy when Sylar decided to up the search for meta-humans. The search was more to stave off Sylar's hunger, it was ever building at the back of his mind, but it also helped that the terrorist attacks have been climbing recently and Nathan had been hesitant to do anything about them.

Getting a slight nod from Matt brought Sylar out of his thoughts, he had been staring at the telepath for awhile and a sheen of sweat was noticeable under that tuft of black hair. Sylar moved his eyes over the rest of the party feeling them fall predictably on the face of Mohinder Suresh. In all his time pretending to be an aide he hadn't seen Mohinder once; had heard of the top scientist all the time but never got a view, which was infuriating. The beard had come as a shock, but he could ignore it for those newly acquired glasses that had Sylar wanting to leap over the desk and ravish the oblivious man senseless.

Mohinder tilted his head slightly when he noticed he was being observed, sending a question through a glance that Sylar had no idea how to answer. He had no knowledge on how Nathan communicated with the Indian geneticist, had never gotten time to observe them and was at a loss. He was actually quite nervous to meet the other man alone, afraid that he'd reveal himself too soon and have his plans ruined. Sylar turned his full attention back to the now trembling official, keeping Mohinder in his peripheral vision. The group seemed to be holding their breath, waiting for orders and Sylar almost asked them what they wanted until he remembered it was order times.

"I want double security on all research facilities. No more mistakes. And get working on finding the terrorist who did this, justice for those who lost their lives must be served." He barked out, leaning forward to clasp his hands and rest his elbows on the desk; a motion Nathan did when he didn't want to talk anymore.

The men nodded, stated their gratitude for not being fired and scurried out of the room. Only three didn't leave the room like Sylar would have wanted; Mohinder, Matt, and the Haitian stayed put, not moving when other officials and security bumped their shoulders. Sylar stared down at his pen, fingers twitching to rap again or do something to distract him from their obvious questions.

"Are you okay Mr. President?" Matt was the one who broke the growing silence, Sylar tried to keep his face bland like Nathan would.

"Perfectly fine," He replied stiffly, letting his imposing gaze stare Matt down and make his head of Homeland Security fidget.

"Then we'll be off," Matt stated lamely, motioning for the Haitian to leave and following him out with a side ways glance to Mohinder.

There was an odd look between them, Sylar didn't like it; there was familiarity there and that aroused jealousy in Sylar's veins. Mohinder's posture relaxed, surprising Sylar as he loosened his tie but didn't remove it like Sylar would have liked to see.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Mohinder's gentle, accented voice flowed soothingly into Sylar's ears and he couldn't resist closing his eyes in exhilaration; he really missed hearing Mohinder speak.

Sylar shook the dirty, not-so-Nathan thoughts out of his head and met Mohinder puzzled glance, obviously he wasn't acting normal.

"I'm fine Dr. Suresh." Sylar stated, reaching across the desk for the reports and shuffling through them so he wouldn't have to meet Mohinder's brown, haunting eyes.

The rustling of papers dominated the office room but Sylar was listening closely to Mohinder's breath, his heart beat and the twitching muscles. Mohinder shifted from side to side, he bit those dark, plush lips and fiddled with something in his suit jacket pocket. It was driving Sylar insane to have the Indian here and not be able to act normally, to stalk forward and strike his claim after over a year of being apart. The words on the paper blurred as Sylar focused on Mohinder's light steps moving around the polished desk and stopping at his side; he couldn't breathe, couldn't look because he knew his eyes would give him away.

Sylar could write off his jump of being startled as being too focused on the reports, if asked why Nathan was surprised, for he had and hadn't been expecting that warm, chocolate colored hand to rest on his shoulder, massaging the tense muscles underneath.

"What are you doing?" Sylar asked with his heart beating faster and his eyes flickering from each of Mohinder's puzzled eyes, trying to understand.

"You're really tense and acting weird." Mohinder offered, his hand moving away from the shoulder and returning to his pocket, looking put off. "Maybe you should take a break."

Sylar gaped at the other man; Mohinder was speaking so casually with Nathan and not at all like what Sylar expected. Mohinder spoke as if they were friends, and his mind refused to dwell on maybe Nathan and Mohinder being lovers; that was just too wrong.

"A break?" Sylar decided he'd be safer asking small, short questions because those were harder to gage personality from. "Why?"

"You've been working a lot more, I barely see you anymore." Mohinder shrugged, his hand gesturing to the stacks of paperwork Sylar had completed that morning because he had nothing better to do.

"My job is to run the country." Sylar stiffly replied, grabbing for his pen and being surprised when Mohinder's hand enclosed around his own.

"The country can run itself for an hour, you need to relax." Sylar was wholly surprised to be pulled up by Mohinder's grip and pushed out the office door.

"What are you doing?" Sylar asked, almost failing to keep Nathan's voice his own, nearly losing concentration and dropping his disguise.

Mohinder rolled his eyes and Sylar noted how close in height they were, the Indian didn't have to crane his neck to meet his gaze. "Making you take a break. You can't be the only one allowed to do that."

"Have I done that before?" Sylar wondered allowed and getting the puzzled look from Mohinder again.

"You do it all the time. Dragging me from the lab at two am to go have a beer and pass out on your sofa. You lecture me about working too hard and now you're doing the same thing." Mohinder scowled but the hint of his blinding smile colored it, making it less angry and more joking.

He was pulled into a side room, it looked to be a reception room but it was deserted, and was pushed unceremoniously onto the sofa. Mohinder chuckled as he straightened his jacket and the geneticist waited until he was settled

"What do you want to do?" He asked, those elegant eyebrows rising with a beautiful smile.

"Can you make chai tea?" Sylar asked, not able to think clearly when staring at those pearly whites.

"What?" Mohinder's smile vanished and his head tilted like a puppies in confusion. "You don't like chai or any kind of tea."

Sylar's mind raced; he knew Nathan didn't like tea, had watched him turn it down before and from the looks of it Mohinder would know that too. No explanation was coming to mind, he couldn't think of anything because his mind was still busy thinking about ravishing Mohinder. He settled for shrugging, hoping that looked more like a friendly, casual gesture than an awkward motion.

"Just feel like it." He responded lamely.

Mohinder's one brow rose up, head tilting more and showing that beautiful, unmarked neck. "Okay, one chai coming up."

Sylar's old personality, the blonde aide, almost shouted out 'don't drug it this time' as Mohinder whirled on the spot to exit the room, but he pushed it down. When Mohinder returned Sylar gratefully took the offered tea, inhaling it deeply and letting the spicy aroma invade his senses. Mohinder seated himself carefully beside Sylar, his closeness making Sylar even more nervous that he took a big gulp of burning chai without thinking.

Mohinder's hands were quick, stilling the cup before Sylar spilled it over himself as he chocked on the tea that burned his mouth. A cool hand smoothed down his hair, trailed to his back and gave a steady pound to quell Sylar's coughing.

"That was stupid." Mohinder chuckled, breaking the tense silence that had spread while Sylar tried learning to breathe again.

"Yeah," He rasped in response, almost losing focus and dropping the illusion; Sylar found he had best control over his abilities when he was about to die and the illusion hadn't faded at all while he choked.

"I guess I do need a break," He murmured while leaning back into the couch and almost smothering Mohinder's arm.

"Considering you almost choked on tea, I have to agree." Mohinder's laughter filled Sylar's ears and he couldn't help but laugh as well.

They spent half an hour just joking around and talking before Sylar was finally dragged away by one of his secretaries with a promise to meet Mohinder later on. Sylar felt really giddy, he had managed to clap Mohinder on the shoulder several times and brush away a stray curl once before being pulled away. He left with a smirk covering his face and completely missed Mohinder's half puzzled, half disappointed frown. Mohinder was wondering why he wasn't given the customary Nathan Petrelli goodbye kiss or the Petrelli man-hug. He put it off thinking maybe the President just had too much on his mind for Nathan would never, in his right mind, ask for chai tea when left alone with Mohinder; he always had other things in mind to do.

* * *


	41. Singing in the Rain

**Syhindlar Prompt #6: **Mohinder and Sylar already in a relationship and Sylar's given up his brain-hunting ways. But one power in particular catches his eye and he just can't help himself...

* * *

Sylar hummed happily, out of tune, as he meandered down the busy street, swinging his umbrella carelessly. Rain had been predicted, but the skies were quite bright and sunny, though grey clouds did scatter about blocking the rays once in awhile. 

People turned their heads and winced at the horrible tune as they passed him, but he ignored their discomfort for he felt to giddy to care.

Other days Sylar wouldn't even bother trying to whistle. He had gotten heck countless times from Mohinder when scaring Molly with his horrible singing. It wasn't Sylar's fault he couldn't carry a tune, even with super hearing the mechanics to match notes was difficult. All sounds mashed together in his ears and so he just mashed sounds out when singing.

Sylar turned down a side street, having no trouble getting through the swarm for people left him wide bearing with his awful humming. It was mostly deserted, slightly quieter than before but Sylar's hearing could still pick up the rats scuttling in the alley way, a crow tearing apart shreds of a sandwich, and an old man groaning from his shadowed hovel in the throws of drunken sleep.

A chilly breeze left Sylar pausing in step to further do up the buttons of his coat when a heavenly sound filled his ears. His humming stopped as he listened more closely, eyes casting out to spot the one uttering the beautiful sounds and landing on a homeless lady tending to her shopping cart. With matted hair and dirty rags, she looked like an old lady but as he edged closer he could see she was quite young, probably younger than himself.

She was cooing a song to a dying flower, probably stolen from a floral boutique, and it wasn't the words that attracted Sylar. The flowers wilted petals seemed to rise up as she sang, drinking in the vibrations and coming alive. It was fascinating to watch and Sylar's mind devoured the knowledge, ears listened past the beautiful tones and into the broken ticking of her mind.

Special; that's what she was and the long forgotten hunger swelled. He wanted the ability, wanted to bring life into dying flowers just like her. Sylar wanted to bring birds to his call of melodies just like the pigeons now skulked around her feet. It was breathtaking, her sounds, and Sylar could now hear how horrible his own melody had sounded, and he winced at the grating noise his eidetic memory provided.

Sylar drew away though, thoughts of Mohinder clouded his mind and he didn't want to disappoint his lover. Mohinder was so happy, was so proud that Sylar wasn't killing anymore; but Sylar wanted so much, so deeply. It was a hard internal struggle, very difficult to fight. He seated himself down onto an apartment step and watched her, his mind working harder and deeper to understand.

The homeless girl was dying, malnutrition was eating at her limbs and she probably wouldn't last another week. Even though her body came alive from her own singing, it wouldn't be enough to sustain her for long. Her power would vanish along with her life and no living or dying creature would ever hear that beautiful sound again.

Feeling justified, feeling understanding take hold, Sylar rose from his seat leaving the umbrella behind and approached the young lady. Her screams were very beautiful and very short lived, for it hurt Sylar to hear such musical agony. He discarded her body in a dumpster after removing her brain, the thrumming of energy echoing in his mind; but he wasn't happy.

When Sylar retrieved his umbrella, he continued on his walk. He didn't start humming until the rain clouds settled above him, sending chilling drops over his bushy eyebrows and down his refined nose. The tune wasn't happy, it was a song of mourning and respect for the life that was gone and for the gift that would live on to bring joy to those who survived.

* * *


	42. Multicolored

**Syhindlar Prompt #6: **Mohinder and Sylar already in a relationship and Sylar's given up his brain-hunting ways. But one power in particular catches his eye and he just can't help himself...

* * *

"You broke your promise and murdered someone just to obtain the power to change colors!?!" 

"Yes?"

Mohinder took a deep calming breath' in fact he took several, in order to rationalize his boyfriends stupidity--which was difficult when Sylar kept changing various colors of blue, that further irritated him-- and not let the all-consuming rage make him do or say something stupid.

It was never wise to hurt or anger a super-powered, slightly unstable (okay, fully unstable but Mohinder didn't want to admit he was in love with an insane man), ex-serial killer.

One breath, two, five, twenty and finally Mohinder could speak without littering his words with colorful swears that would lead his mother to have a heart attack. He was also calm enough where he didn't froth at the mouth with all his rage like some rabid dog.

"Why, exactly, did you kill for _this_ particular power?" Managed that through clenched teeth, really proud he didn't shout it.

"Because I'd be pretty," Sylar shrugged, making his hand turn green while the rest of his body stayed periwinkle blue.

Mohinder's left eye developed a pretty healthy, steady twitch. It made Sylar wonder that maybe Mohinder had frozen much like the computer did sometime, the cursor flickering but not being able to move it anywhere no matter how hard you pounded the tiny mouse and mashed the keyboard.

"Pretty?" Mohinder finally asked after ten minutes of eye twitching and silent staring.

"Yes," Sylar beamed, helping his boyfriend land onto the couch for his legs seemed to be shutting down like his brain. "I can be any color now; blue, pink, orange, yellow, burgrunday--"

"Burgundy."

"Burgundy, yes, sorry. I can be cerulean, cream, forest green, magenta; any color you can think of I can be."

Mohinder stared at his mauve-colored grinning boyfriend, watching his hair change from mustard to tangerine and then settling on vermillion.

"Who did you steal this power from?" Mohinder asked; feeling some curiosity swell in his chest and thinking it pointless to be mad at his boyfriend when the deed has already been done.

"Some old man," Sylar shrugged, far more interested in turning his toes to match the exact shade of Mohinder's socks. "He didn't deserve it."

Mohinder felt the flame of anger flicker back to life. "Why do you say that? Maybe he used the ability to entertain his grand kids. Now those kids are going to be crying because you couldn't hold back your hunger."

Mohinder tried rising from the couch, his fists balling in rage and growled when Sylar tugged him back down, pinning him to the couch.

"He didn't have grandkids." Sylar explained his face deadly calm and back to his regular shade. "He used the ability to fake choking in restaurants so he could sue them and get richer. He wasn't a very nice person at all and was sending small businesses into bankruptcy."

"Fine, maybe he was a bad person." Mohinder relented, after failing to struggle free from his lovers hold. "But that doesn't make it right for you to kill him. To take his powers and sacrifice our happy lifestyle just for a few color changes. What if someone finds the body? They won't think you're dead anymore and will start hunting you again. We'll be on the run once more and how will we be able to support Molly if she can't even get proper schooling?"

"No one will find the body." Sylar smiled, leaning forward and nuzzling Mohinder's cheek with his own. "I melted it. We're perfectly safe."

Mohinder shuddered, imaging a pile of red human-goo that used to be a creepy old man. It made him queasy and Sylar's stubble tickling his cheek wasn't cheering him up like it usually did.

"Please get off me." Mohinder stated flatly, watching Sylar pout and his face turn baby blue in sadness.

Sylar pulled away, letting Mohinder rise from the couch and wander towards the kitchen. He followed close behind, worrying his lip with his teeth before voicing his confusion.

"Why aren't you happy?"

Mohinder banged the kettle onto the stove and turned it on, sending a glance over to his oranging boyfriend.

"Why should I be? You killed someone today and it was for a useless ability."

Sylar tilted his head slightly, eyes darkening as he glowered at the insult.

"It's not useless at all."

"What good is turning purple?"

Mohinder turned his back on his boyfriend in order to fix tea. He was startled when multicolored arms, reminiscent of his favorite scarf, wrapped around his waist.

Sylar pulled his boyfriend away from the stove, turning him slowly around to get full view of his glorious coloring. Mohinder could only stare, jaw dropped as such beautiful, perfect colors flooded his eyes.

"Beautiful," Mohinder breathed, running his hand up Sylar's arm and watching the colors wave much like his scarf did in a breeze.

"So tell me its useless n--" Sylar never got to finish for the last of his words were devoured by frantic, caramel lips.

* * *


	43. Sleeping Through The Moment

**Syhindlar Prompt #8: **Either Mohinder or Sylar finds out that his lovepartner is an extremely heavy sleeper.

* * *

The sun was exceedingly warm, the roads extremely bumpy, and yet Mohinder still slept on curled within the passenger seat and his heat bumping against the window. Sylar kept sending glances at the young geneticist, wondering how the man could still be asleep after one loud, and resounding crack filled the stale car air after a particularly large bump. 

Sylar had known the man had been tired, had inquired in Zane's stuttering voice about whether Mohinder was fit enough to continue and didn't want to sleep a little longer, but he hadn't thought the man would enter such a deep range of sleep. Not even those dark eyelashes fluttered within the realm of a dream, no muscles twitched, and no shifting occurred in his seat during the last three hours of the drive.

Turning to the road, Sylar slowed the car to a stop before a railroad track as an engine pulled by with its countless number of cars. He eased the ignition off and unbuckled, pulling off the too warm jacket and tossing it into the back which was already littered with Mohinder's brown coat and colorful scarf.

Eyes flicked over the geneticists face, the odd angle of that head had Sylar wincing, wondering how Mohinder could stand sleeping that way. It was really bothersome and after a minute of staring, Sylar had to do something to correct it.

Hesitant hands lingered over golden caramel skin before Sylar worked up the nerve to touch. His first test was brushing back inky black curls, eyes intently fixed on Mohinder's face to see if the sleeping man stirred. When no change was sighted, Sylar curled his finger around that neck; sliding his hand up between hair and the window and slowly moving Mohinder so he sat upright in the chair.

A soft sigh, a slight change in deep breathing, had Sylar freezing in fear. A red tongue flicked out to wet dry lips and Mohinder seemed to sink deeper into the chair, sink deeper back into sleep. More intent staring, more waiting, and then Sylar moved his hand away from the warm skin of Mohinder's neck.

He brushed away some of the curls that dangled over Mohinder's eyes, parting them perfectly to put some order into that unruly hair. The thrill of being caught ran up his spine, the challenge to see how deep in sleep the scientist was made Sylar lean closer, not even pondering a thought of how to proceed if caught.

With his warm breath mingling with the sleepy sighs of Mohinder's, Sylar let words flow from his tongue.

"Mohinder?" A trial, just to be sure the other man was truly asleep.

When no response came forth Sylar grew bolder.

"My name isn't Zane Taylor." He put out, darkened eyes watching for eyebrows to come together in confusion and knowing they won't.

The temptation to touch again came over him and Sylar let his fingers run down Mohinder's cheek. Soft and feather light, intended to tickle and bring out any response he could. Still the young man slept on, still no twitches to be seen, and Sylar decided to go even further, confess even more.

"My name is Sylar." He admitted feeling the weight, the burden he'd been carrying since he met Chandra's son lesson a bit. "I'm the man who murdered your father, who murdered countless other people."

Mohinder slept on through the confession, he never snored but sighed and Sylar could let his real voice carry without Zane's hasty stuttering damaging clear words. Sylar wondered idly if the words would seep into Mohinder's subconscious, fill the dreams that his body refused to tell. He wasn't afraid of that happening, he wanted Mohinder to figure it out, wanted to see rage fill those glowing brown eyes which only shone with pity and joy for him.

"I do not regret the murders, not anymore. I am just playing my part in evolution." Sylar confided, his white fingers trailing across those dark lips lightly. "I know you won't understand that, or even accept that for an answer, but it's true."

Then as one final act, as the last of the train cars pulled across the road, Sylar leaned in forward and let his lips brush against Mohinder's own. Gentle and soft it was against dry, unmoving lips and Sylar pulled away with a smile to start the car. Mohinder's pink tongue licked over dry his lips once more, eyelids flicked a bit but he did not awaken and Sylar drove on; heading towards their next destination and his very next power, ripe for the taking.

* * *


	44. Make Me Breakfast

**Syhindlar Prompt #8 (second fic): **Either Mohinder or Sylar finds out that his lovepartner is an extremely heavy sleeper.

* * *

Mohinder blinked his eyes open, staring sleepily at the blaring alarm clock and gave a shout of surprise as his mind comprehended the time. 

"What the—10:09!?! I can't be that late already!" A great shout sounded through the house and caused Molly to jump, spilling her fruit loops onto the carpet as she watched Saturday morning cartoons.

Mohinder came bursting from his bedroom; white shirt askew with unevenly buttoned buttons, tie hanging sloppily over his shoulder, pants half buckled-making Mohinder trip a little as he flailed around-and ebony curls wilder than what Molly thought was possible.

Several strings of Tamil curses were muttered as Mohinder slammed the tea kettle down on the oven and scurried to gather his notes. Molly turned away from her cartoons, padding over to the kitchen table and grabbing an apple to munch on as curious eyes followed the harried man around.

Mohinder was about to go out the door, jacket flung over one arm, his briefcase and a travel mug in the other, when Molly finally deemed it a good time to speak.

"Where are you going?" Her curious statement, one filled with childish innocence, had Mohinder pausing in step on his way out the door.

Mohinder turned his gaze to her, blinking once, and then once more, before replying, "To work."

There was a moment of staring, Mohinder eyes confused and Molly's face spreading into an amused smile.

"But it's Saturday." Molly stressed the last word, her eyebrow rising upwards in an expression reminiscent of her parent's murderer.

It took Mohinder another couple of minutes to process it, in the meantime allowing one of the elderly neighbors time to walk by and take in the Indian's frazzled appearance with a rolling of eyes and disbelieving questions of his sanity.

"It's…Saturday." Mohinder stated slowly, letting the door snap shut behind him as the jacket and briefcase toppled to the floor.

Molly nibbled at the last of her apple before turning away with a swish of her hair and returning to her cartoon viewings.

A glance at the calendar confirmed the date and Mohinder groaned into his hands, feeling his face begin to burn in embarrassment. Unable to stand Molly's childish laughter, he headed back to the bedroom, kicking shut the door, and taking in the sprawled out figure on his bed.

Sylar looked quite hilarious with his arms and legs cast out in all directions. Mohinder felt a smile spread across his face, watching his love snore away the morning without a care in the world. He could have stood at there all day watching that face drool onto the pillow but a grumbling of his stomach made Mohinder move away from the door and crawl onto the bed.

Since Mohinder wasn't much of a cook he decided it was Sylar's turn to do the cooking that day. He took another moment to survey the sleeping face before him before leaning close and blowing into the ex-murderer's ear.

Sylar grunted, rolling away from the cool air, but made no motions into becoming awake. His snores become louder, more pronounced, and Mohinder pouted; that trick usually worked at waking himself up.

With a dark hand, Mohinder rolled Sylar back onto his back and shook him.

"Hey, Sy-pa, get up!" Molly's nickname usually captured Sylar's attention immediately, but once again the only response Mohinder got was a snore.

Mohinder frowned, resting his forehead against Sylar's for a moment as he thought of ways to wake the other man up. He never really tried doing this before, Sylar was usually up before him or shortly after he left the bed, missing Mohinder's warmth, and it was odd for him to still be asleep when the night before hadn't held any exhausting activities.

Hand reaching blindly for the side table, Mohinder pulled open the drawer and sifted through various materials until something like and fluffy slid against his hand. Pulling the bright feather out, the young Indian grinning and danced it around Sylar's nose.

"Wakey, wakey Mr. Sylar." Mohinder cooed, watching that prominent nose wrinkle, "Time to get up."

Sylar sniffed, huffed, and tried blowing the feather away with his nose. When that didn't work he started squirming, forcing Mohinder to sit up on his chest in order to avoid getting head bashed. Sylar's hands soon came swatting; slapping against Mohinder's as they missed the target, making Mohinder laugh as he continued having the feather dance up and around the ex-murderers face.

Sylar's large frame seemed to seize up on itself, making Mohinder's motions pause, and leaving him totally unprepared for the forceful sneeze that sent him sprawling back; getting entangled in Sylar's long legs.

His boyfriend was up and on top of him before Mohinder could recover; long, white fingers dancing along his sides and forcing laughter from his lips. Sylar devoured the noise greedily and swung over the bed, leaving a gasping Mohinder behind as he left to empty his bladder.

"You're making breakfast." Mohinder called after him, feeling satisfied with his success and not seeing the feather rise up behind him.

Molly rolled her eyes; hearing Mohinder's angry laughter as he cursed Sylar while being tickled to death. Sylar kept the feather going all through his morning coffee, reading the weekend newspaper, and ended through the middle of making lunch when it sounded like Mohinder couldn't breathe anymore.

* * *


	45. BobMohinder

**Pairing: BOB/MOHINDER**

A/N: I wrote this little piece out to freak out my friend...It's more graphic than what I usually write...And it's Bob/Mohinder. Such a creepy pairing. There's only one moment in this fic where Mohinder/Sylar is implied. **Read at your own risk. **

* * *

"You have no idea how valuable, how important you are, to this company," Bob wheezed, that balding head slick with sweat while his tongue trailed lazily down Mohinder's gasping chest.

Mohinder swallowed the unwanted moan, breathed insistently through his nose while biting down on his lip to keep all noise to a minimum. A mantra ran through his mind as pale hands slid down his waist to grasp at warm, hardening flesh.

'_ForMollyForMollyForMollyForMollyForMollyForMolly_,' Continuous, ever repeating, unforgettable, distracting; anything to get Mohinder's mind off of this.

That warm tongue trailed to his nipple, teeth grazing delicately at the hardened flesh that caused an uncontained whimper to break through Mohinder's lips; forcing him to clamp down even more on bruising flesh.

His eyes closed for the temptation to watch that sickly smiling face have its way with his body, as fascinating as it was, was something Mohinder knew he would have nightmares about if he kept watching.

As he tried to imagine himself in another place, with another person with warm loving smiles on a murderous lying face (the best memory he had left), a sudden pain brought him back into the present.

A knife had somehow made its way into Bob's sweaty, pale hands and he was using it to lightly graze at Mohinder's skin, drawing blood from shallow cuts. His eyes sparkled as they met Mohinder's startled own and Bob's hot tongue swathed the wound, trailing the bloody trail down to Mohinder's belly button.

"The lifeblood," He breathed, his breath sending goose bumps across Mohinder's stomach and down his spine.

"So beautiful," He trailed his hand gently down Mohinder's cheek, over now bleeding lips, while mercilessly tightening his hold over Mohinder's cock, making the Indian shudder and groan.

Bob's mouth moved to capture the sound, blood flavoring the kiss as he picked up speed and pace. It was sickening to Mohinder. Bob's worshiping hands moving over his body, forcing him to react and enjoy. Mohinder writhed and panted, lost in the overwhelming pleasure while thrusting and begging for more.

Poisonous words flowed into Mohinder's ears as Bob's tongue trailed around it, "You're so special. You have no idea how valuable you are. Your father had no idea."

Fingers, penetrating, slid into Mohinder; his cry of pain was muffled into a pale shoulder while Bob groaned out his pleasure, his hardening cock sliding across Mohinder's thigh. Clawing into the bed sheets, Mohinder refused to pull the other man closer; he had to keep this distant, impersonal.

Boneless and helpless against the onslaught of pleasure, Mohinder was pushed over the edge when Bob's fingers slid in all the way. An onslaught of cold and hot waves pulsed through his body, shaking him to the core as a greedy mouth devoured the sound of his release. He came back to himself feeling the warmth of Bob's own relief and felt dirty and used.

Bob had left him there unconscious, something Mohinder was glad for and he hurried to get dressed and leave before his boss came back. Walking into his apartment, Mohinder couldn't help but smile down at the beautiful sleeping figure lying in wait for him. Molly was curled in a ball on the floor, a blanket wrapped tightly around her (probably from Matt) and a gentle smile on her face.

Against his exhaustion, Mohinder lifted the weightless girl into his arms and tucked her into her bed. Running a hand through her long hair Mohinder once again promised that he'd do anything to keep her safe.

* * *

A/N: Go ahead: spazz, flame, hate me, destroy my ego. I don't mind. 


	46. Mylar Shower Fun

A/N: This was written for my friend and features her in it. Mohinder and Sylar having 'fun' in the shower.

* * *

Slammed back into the slippery wall, Mohinder hissed as steaming hot water cascaded down his open, vulnerable form. Sylar's hands trapping his up against the wall as those devilish lips, once pulled back in a seductive smile, work ravenously at his throat; sucking and biting and doing everything good to make Mohinder buck into empty space.

A strangled moan of protest is torn from Mohinder's lips, he wants friction and feeling and the water to be turned down, but Sylar does none of it. He's far to occupied with the unclaimed neck, needing to mark his territory over and over again.

Finally, after what feels like hours, pale hands move away from his wrists, arms still pinned by an invisible force, and trail possessively down his form. One plays and teases his hardening nipples, making Mohinder gasp in pain, allowing a plundering tongue in.

The other hand continues the journey over his stomach, traces mischievously around his belly button before a grunted moan sends it to wrap around heated, straining flesh. Mohinder arches, bucking hard into the hand that slide tantalizingly up and down his length.

The pressure builds as Sylar increases the tempo and speed with Mohinder screaming his pleas for more into his shoulder. The Indian is near, Sylar can hear it in the staccato heartbeat, the flowing of blood, and he's ready to send his lover over the edge when a new sound catches his ears.

A gasp, surprised and horrified from behind that causes Sylar to look over and release his aching lover in surprise. Mohinder lets out a frustrated screech, his wet curls sliding across Sylar shoulder as the Indian man pulls back to glare at his lover.

"Why'd you stop?" The anger is lost behind a whine of need, making Sylar smile as he looks upon their uninvited guest.

A young woman, in the hotel's maid uniform, stands in the doorway with one rubber glove half on and the other fallen to the floor. Her mouth is agape wide in shock, face flushed in embarrassment, but Sylar can hear her body responding to their erotic scene.

"I…I…" Her voice is strangled off with a mere arch of his eyebrow and Sylar finds himself amused.

"Are you going to join us or leave?" He rumbles out, wondering what kind of reaction he'd get and tries not to laugh when the maid skitters back. Her long brown hair swishes up behind her as she flees with Sylar's voice following her out saying, "Don't forget to lock the door."

"That…" Mohinder's cultured voice trails off; Sylar whips around to see the shock and embarrassment fluster his lover's face.

The serial killer uses that moment of distraction to grind into Mohinder's prone body, getting a moan and reawakening the desire. His hand takes its place back onto the flagging erection and pumps it back into hardness, enjoying Mohinder's wet body writhing beneath his.

"Come for me," Sylar orders, loving how Mohinder arches up following his command; warm, sticky liquid coating his pale hands.

Sylar cleans his fingers off with his tongue as Mohinder leans against him catching his breath. Sylar's eyes are closed; spreading his senses out to hear the barely contained moan from the maid as she stands silently peeking through the door and scurries away when she sees Sylar grab a towel.

When they get out of the bathroom, both with pristine white towels around their waists, Sylar moves away from his lover's arms and opened the hotel door to snatch up a sign hanging on the handle. He sees now that he had accidentally put it on the wrong way, the 'need cleaning' side facing out instead of 'do not disturb'.

Flashing it briefly to his confused lover, both Sylar and Mohinder share a small laugh before the serial killer replaces it back the right way. Then Sylar joins his lover in bed, letting the exotic man tie his wrists around wooden bedposts with brightly colored scarves in preparation for the next round of fun.

* * *

A/N: Feel free to point out errors and such. I wrote this quite some time ago in a rushed manner and haven't really done editng or reading over since. ;; (I'm busy with school most of the time and then just plain lazy the rest) 


	47. Watching

A/N: I'm in the middle of studying for midterms and really needed to take a break so I decided to write a quick drabble. I set a 500 word limit and just wrote away. This is the unedited result.

* * *

Sylar licked his lips, eyes settlling on the drowsy movements of his prey; Mohinder was just a little out of reach now and he couldn't wait to take him back. To hold that fiery man down against the ground, or the wall, or slammed into that table and force delicious, dirty cries from those cultured lips.

His pale hand rested on the cool pain of glass, pressing firmly as if to push it away; make it fall and shatter on the floor, cause that lithe man to turn away from his work and look at him, only him, with wide alarmed eyes.

The fear would flash with doubt and disbelief and Sylar would casually sidle up to that unmoving form, take Mohinder's face in his long slender hands, and whisper his return against warm parted lips.

Sylar wanted, wanted so very badly, to touch and take and own. His fingers curled into a fist, anger at his helplessness, his loss of power. He wanted telekinesis right now to drive the geneticist insane. To send sweeping invisible touches against the neck, down his back, around his cock, and Mohinder would gasp and turn to look but nothing would be there; the illusion would be perfect.

The door clacked open, Sylar ducked to the side not wanting to be caught peering in. A tall man entered, balding and fat with glasses. He moved slithery, like a snake, and Sylar burned inside to see a lustful smirk spread across those ugly lips. Those unworthy eyes rested on his prize, drifting up and down in a caressing way and Sylar was glad that this man didn't have telekinesis, that he didn't have the means to send invisible touches up Mohinder's back.

Mohinder tensed when the fat ugly man moved to his side. Sylar muffled a screech of rage when a pudgy hand rested on his Mohinder's back, thumb rubbing circles against bare caramel skin and playing with a longer strand of black curls. Mohinder stayed tense but didn't refuse the touches, making Sylar's eyes narrow in jealousy; Mohinder was _his_ to touch, to fuck, to play with.

Sylar would have broken through the glass right then and there if his darling Mohinder, his perfect Mohinder, hadn't shrugged the hand off suddenly after an exchange of words. Mohinder stormed away to the opposite side of the room, his face now clearly in Sylar's sight, and started working on something else, ignoring whatever words the fat man was trying to use on him.

The fat man frowned, pulled out his phone, and left the way he came slamming the door with a little more force. Sylar sighed happily, leaned his head against the wall and lazily watched his lover work, still oblivious to being watched. Sylar continued watching, continued memorizing, every twitch and droopy-eyed blink that passed over the geneticists face, and thought up plans for the future; on getting his power back, killing that balding man, and staking his claim once more on his Mohinder.

* * *


	48. Adameter

Pairing: Adam/Peter

A/N: Some graphic stuff. Spoilers for last episode.

* * *

Peter's right hand rests on wall, trying to concentrate but Adam's warm fingers are rubbing just right, so nice and comforting he can't focus.

"Something the matter Peter?" That voice, so soothing it used to comfort him through the wall when he was haunted by nightmares, whispered right next to his ear.

Adam's other hand moving to rest against his right hip, holding him steady and making him tremble.

"I...I can't focus…With you so close." Peter bites out and gasps when warm breath sends goose bumps spreading across his neck; Adam's lips are just one breath widths away.

Peter's glad Adam is behind him so the man can't see the tell tale rise of his pants and he inhales sharply, holding that breath, when lips press lightly against the flesh of his throat.

"Let me help you with that distraction." Adam purrs and Peter can't react before those hands move; the one on his shoulder wrapping around his chest to pull him close and the one on his hip moving to firmly grasp his hardened erection.

"Oh fuck!"

* * *

Adam's tongue pushes through Peter's pliant lips, hands tangling in the short hair as he pushes the empath back into the wall. Peter moans, his legs moving to wrap around Adam's waist and Adam can't help but smirk at how easy this all is.

He pushes his pulsing erection against Peter's bulge and then flinches back in shock; hot spiking pain zaps through his lips, burning as the electrical current follows his movements back.

Peter stares shocked, face flushing at his loss of control and watches in amazement as Adam's lips heal back to normal. Adam cocks his head to the side, brow rising, and Peter shrinks back in embarrassment, smiling sheepishly.

"None of that now Peter," Adam warms, the humor coloring his voice makes Peter feel warm and accepted; Adam understands.

"We'll play it rough when we got a real bed." Eyes twinkle mischievously as Adam swoops in to once more steal a kiss, grinding his hips harshly into Peter's.

* * *

He was burning. It hurt, it hurt so much! Fire was overwhelming him, blinding him, and he couldn't get free; couldn't break away. Peter felt an arm tug at his head; he looked down at his brother's face and gasped. It was melting before his eyes; skin peeling back and burning, those eyes squinting up at him in pain, but there was a smile painted on those lips; always smiling, every dream, all the time.

"No! Nathan no! Let go! Don't die!" Peter screamed, trying to push his brother away. "DON'T DIE!"

He sat up screaming, heart pounding in his chest and ears. Peter scrabbled around; eyes searching the darkness of the room, searching his skin for burns. Nothing, he was okay and it was just a dream. Peter twisted on the bed, untangling his limbs from the blanket and rested his fevered flesh against the cool wall as he tried to regain his breath.

He could hear the rustle of sheets in the other room, could hear Adam's steady breathing as he settled back in a dream only being slightly woken from Peter's scream. He focused in on that steady breath, that steady heart beat, and all his fears calmed. Nathan would be okay, they would save him. Everything would be okay, and with that thought Peter drifted off to sleep, his heart and breath in time with Adam.

* * *

A/N: That was fun. 


	49. Hello Doctor Suresh

A/N: Okay...So this was written for my friend Kat. If any of you readers have facebook, you might know about this drink application thing where you can send various drinks to your super friends with short messages. This story was written and sent to Kat through 16 of those drink messages. XD

This story is also a continuation of the "Hello Dr. Suresh" line from the preview for tonights episode.

**Warning: **Graphic smex stuff.

* * *

Mohinder gasps, the man of his dreams--his deepest desires--sits before him alive and well. He jumps as the door slams shut behind them, Mohinder can't tear his eyes from that devious smirk as Sylar rises from the chair, backs Mohinder into the door.

"I've missed you," He purrs, hand rising up and Mohinder can't help but lean into his touch; those fingers so warm and alive--the way he remembers.

"Hmm...I didn't think you'd be crying," Sylar mutters, his lips ghosting over the tear trails and that sends Mohinder over the edge. He burst into full-fledge sobs; grasping Sylar's shirt letting all his emotions out; the fear, the love, the relief, and hate for a man who can make him feel so many things at one time.

Sylar hushes his pain away, soothes the fear, and nurses the love with long lingering, salty kisses that steal away Mohinder's breath. He moans deep in his throat as warm hands slide up under his shirt, tracing unknowable patterns across his skin while pulling the fabric off.

Mohinder is left standing bare--just like his soul--before Sylar's eyes and he shivers under that gaze; so wanting and loving and perfect it's almost unbearable.

"God, Mohinder." Sylar is gasping, panting with need. His steady hands are trembling, his skin is all flushed, and it's Mohinder who starts their next kiss; pulling Sylar against his body, forcing those hands to touch and own

"Please, please..." Mohinder's begging for it and his pleas force Sylar into action. Sylar slams him to the wall, his tongue and teeth scraping at skin until its red as his hand encloses around...

Mohinder's hot silky erection and the geneticist scream's his pleasure into Sylar's shoulder.

"YES! MORE!" Mohinder groans, his legs rising up to wrap around Sylar's waist to grind against Sylar's trapped bulge.

"God...Mohinder. Oh God!" Sylar's groaning and biting, drawing blood, and pressing fingers up into Mohinder's tight heat, making that body strain against his; keening deep in his throat

"Fuck me Sylar!" Mohinder demands, his hands tearing at the pants to slide the rough fabric down.

Sylar pants, his eyes clouded with lust and presses another finger in, stretching Mohinder a little more before pulling them suddenly out.

Mohinder whimpers, squirming in place, as Sylar spits on his hands for lubrication. He's quivering with need when Sylar starts pushing in, a strangled moan of pain escaping his lips. Sylar captures those lips with his own and Mohinder shudders as he is stretched open more, the burning pain giving way to overwhelming pleasure.

His muscles clench around Sylar's cock when the serial killer squeezes his erection. Sylar's thrusts are long and deep, his steady strokes making Mohinder moan and groan. The pleasure flashes bright in both their minds; desperation takes over and the pace increases.

"Sylar!" Mohinder screams as his world explodes and Sylar groans as he follows his lover in orgasm. They slide sweaty and tangled to the floor, catching their breath.

"That...that..." Mohinder can't voice how happy, how wonderful, he feels and Sylar nods, resting his head on Mohinder's shoulder.

"That was perfect." He hisses, sucking on one of his bites and Mohinder moans, leaning back to give Sylar better access.

Strong hands pet his face, his hair, and he feels so complete; he drifts off to sleep in the killer's arms.

* * *


	50. More Adameter

A/N: This is for my awesome friend maxii! It's Peter playing with frozenintime!Adam. The idea isn't originally mine though. I got the idea from a fic series on livejournal.

* * *

Peter eyes slid shut, ignoring Adam's annoyed huff at his continuous attempts, and he reached out through time; to stop or move it forward, he didn't really know.

The air stilled around him, his eyes flew open and he beheld Adam's face; frozen, inches from his own with eyes almost closed in a blink. He jumped back, startled, relaxing and finally grinning as realization set in.

He did it, time was frozen still, though Peter had no idea how long he'd be able to keep it up.

Peter's fingers brushed lightly over Adam's lifeless face, inspecting them with keen curious eyes. Adam was handsome regardless of being full of motion or still, and Peter felt heat flush through his body, pleasure wrapping around his mind.

He had so much control here and that thought was delicious. It spurned him to caress Adam's face more boldly, hook an arm around that unmoving shoulder and drag his other down Adam's chest, brushing over the muscles hidden under that black shirt.

Adam's lips were hard, not pliant but almost brutal with their unwillingness to move. Peter tried to force his tongue through but it wasn't working, the flesh just wouldn't give, and he pulled back grinning; Adam's lips would probably be bruised when he restarted time.

Peter's hands danced over Adam's pants, brushing his thigh up against the softened cock within in before his hand dipped in to take hold. He played with the soft flesh, rubbing his own aching, hardened erection into Adam's thigh with gasping breaths. Pleasure sparked behind his eyes; hot and bright and beautiful.

Groaning his pleasure into Adam's throat, Peter bit down on the vulnerable flesh as he released; spurting hot and fast into his jeans. Peter slumped, boneless, against Adam's statue-like body, bubbling laughter escaping his throat; choking him for he hadn't yet regained his breath.

He stroked Adam a couple more times before pulling back, stepping at least three steps away--out of arms reach-- and then closed his eyes; stretching out once more to grasp at the strands of time.

A gasp, a strangled moan, and then Peter opened his eyes to see Adam falling to his knees; overwhelmed by pleasure. Adam sat panting, his pale face a flushed red, as he stared up at Peter with wide eyes.

"That...that...what?"

Peter couldn't keep the grin off his face at the delightful sight of Adam on his knees; he licked his lips and let his pants fall. Adam, not skipping a beat at all, shuffled forward, eagerly taking Peter's hips in his grasp.

"You know," That British voice stated before licking a swipe of cum away with his tongue, making Peter gasp and moan. "You didn't have to stop time to get this."

Peter groaned as he was swallowed; Adam's laughter vibrating around him, making him harden even more.

* * *


	51. Sylar Reclaims His Lover

A/N: Wrote a long while ago (in October) and I don't think I posted it here (someone please tell me if I did).

* * *

Mohinder clawed at the arm holding him to the wall, cutting off the air to his lungs. Choking gasps escape his lips as pain shot through his back from the force of the blow. The dark shadow loomed closer, drinking in his fear and life as it seeped out of his limbs. 

"You still smell like him," Sylar snarled; his nostrils flaring in anger as he drove Mohinder into the wall more intensely, that hand cutting off more and more air as the seconds passed.

Mohinder gaped like a fish, words coming out in garbled wheezing tones as he tried begging for his life. He wasn't supposed to die like this; not now, not here. He kicked out blindly, reflexively, hoping to stop Sylar in any way he can. Great relief flooded him as pain spiked through his leg, he connected with Sylar's shin, and that hand loosened it grips.

Sliding down the wall Mohinder drank in the life-giving air, burning away into his lungs and making him cough and sputter. Sylar hopped above him cursing under his breath and Mohinder wondered, once his mind cleared, why he wasn't being thrown back into the wall, into the dumpster, or anywhere else, by Sylar's telekinesis.

"You little shit!"

Again with the hands, not with the power, hoisting him up but not slamming quite as hard this time; just holding him against the wall and staring deep into his face, those eyes so dark and deep and scary. So penetrating, deep into Mohinder's soul and stealing his breath away quite as effectively as a hand at his throat would.

Teeth glint in the harsh orange light, shadows passing across Sylar's face as he looms in close again. That breath is so warm, the hand on his shoulder so hot against the chill of the night; seeping through the cheap fabric of his shirt and making his skin burn underneath.

"Do you like it? Do you enjoy being fucked by him?"

The anger is still there but underlying is curiosity. Sylar's hand trembles as he holds back his rage, forces himself to be gentle because the anger before hadn't worked. Mohinder can already feel the bruises colouring his throat, Sylar had been ready to kill him and the regret in those dark eyes scare Mohinder more than death; Sylar actually cares for him.

"No." His voice is raspy, it comes out barely above a whisper but Mohinder knows Sylar hears it anyways.

But Sylar doesn't hear, those dark eyes narrowing and that hand, way too warm, clenches as he asks, "What?"

Puzzling, strange, and Mohinder's stomach drops as he realizes something's wrong. Sylar couldn't hear it; he couldn't throw him around in his rage. Sylar's powerless and the thought isn't as comforting as Mohinder would like it to be. He's doomed if Sylar can't fight for him, can't take revenge against those who are still blessed or cursed by evolution's hand.

Those eyes are still piercing, Sylar's rage is building from the lack of response, and Mohinder raises his chin up.

"No. I didn't like it."

More clearly this time, loud enough so that it echoes off the walls of the alley and Sylar's eyes widens in surprise; he hadn't expected Mohinder to figure him out so quickly. He starts to pull away, fear flashing in those dark depths and Mohinder finds his hand hooking around Sylar's shoulder, stopping his getaway.

"Don't leave me now." He snaps, not sure why he's so frustrated with the serial killer's fear.

Their lips clash in frenzied movements, Mohinder propelling Sylar's shocked body into the opposite wall; legs tangling together as he presses forward and up into the hardening heat. Mohinder swallows Sylar's groan, pushes and pulls until Sylar starts fighting back, recovers from the shock. Their hands paw at each other; too much fabric, too much heat, not enough skin.

This is insane, but Mohinder needs it. He's tainted, he's ill and only Sylar's touch will heal him. Only Sylar's touch feels right and the thought makes him sick so he grinds into that pliant body, chases away all thoughts in the pursuit of pleasure and pain.

The world spins, Mohinder's back against the wall and he's wrapping his legs around Sylar's waist. His pants are rumpled on the ground; how they got undone he doesn't know, when he took off his shoes doesn't matter right now, all that matters is the feel of Sylar's hand, of his cock rubbing against his own, the teeth biting at his throat.

He hisses in pain when Sylar's fingers nudge at his entrance, he's still tender from the earlier assault and Sylar growls deeply in his throat. He thrusts in brutally making Mohinder scream, making the Indian want more and more; anything to get rid of the memories, the taint.

The speed increases, the pleasure builds and Mohinder's sobbing in pain, in joy, as light sparks behind his eyes and lighting courses through his veins. He strains with the third finger penetrating his body, the world exploding in a rush as he feels Sylar tense when their erections collide, forcefully, one last time. Sylar's name slips off his tongue like so many other nights only this time he isn't smacked for it, he's kissed deeply instead.

"Mine!" Sylar growls tearing the flesh of his lip, Mohinder's blood dribbling down his chin.

Mohinder sighs, nodding his head and rests it against that broad shoulder shivering. The taint is still there at the back of his mind but he knows it's better now. Even without powers, Sylar will still be useful.

* * *

A/N: I'm going through my fic folder right now because I have writer's block. Might be putting more fics up on here. 


	52. VampireMylar and then Mylar Smex

A/N: Some more I found...Mylar Vampire and then Mylar smex. Written...a long time ago.

* * *

#1 

Sylar liked the feel of Mohinder's limp body in his arms; the young Indian doctor felt so fragile, breakable. Like the only thing holding him together was Sylar's cold, strong hands. He never grew tired of carrying the other man home in the early hours of the morning. Mohinder would stay at a bar drinking the night away while filling the pages of his dead father's notes.

In a drunken haze, the doctor would take to the dim lighted streets and from there Sylar would follow him. Follow until the doctor could stand no more, or until her tried to swerve around and confront Sylar when the vampire's footfalls became a little too loud to be ignored or cast of as a drunken hallucination.

Sylar loved to watch the life flow across that face, dashing through expressions Sylar long forgot how to make. From shock, to awe, to anger, and finally fear; he would drink them all in and sink his teeth into that beautiful, golden neck.

Mohinder struggled beautifully, clawing and cursing, spitting and biting; he always gave in. Baring his neck even more openly; moaning so prettily as his eyes fluttered shut, as his life drains out of him.

He never drank too much, just enough to get his prey drowsy. Enough to make Mohinder moan in pleasure as blissful unconsciousness tried pulling him away, but never all the way. That dark head of curls would bounce against Sylar's shoulder, tickle the pulsing veins of his neck as new life spread to his limbs.

Kissing and licking away the tears and blood, Sylar would carry his precious Mohinder home. Home to that terrified little girl with blood red hair, wide innocent eyes, and angelic voice. Such a good girl she was, not telling the hunters about Mohinder's night trips. Not telling Mohinder, when he wakes up groggy each morning that he had been food for his father's murderer again.

* * *

#2 

It was only logical to end up like this; a tangle mass of sweaty limbs spread out, sideways, across the bed with those lips, bruised and swollen, screaming out his name in both rage and need combined.

It started when the door opened, Sylar ready to take by force the list from Mohinder's hands, and being perfectly stunned to find the beautiful man in a state of half dress; his dark, bouncy curls more frazzled than before, those dark intelligent eyes half closed in sleep, and his button down shirt hanging at caramel elbows, half tucked into his boxer shorts.

Sylar's mind had stopped working, his mouth going dry and moist at the same time as blood rushed downwards leaving him stupefied. Mohinder barely recognized him, his mind still not entirely functioning from the disrupted dream and a smile was left half formed on his lips in greeting before slow realization sunk in.

It was magnetic, those lips, and Sylar had them covered with his own before Mohinder even started inhaling for his onslaught of words.

Hands gripping harshly at bed mussed curls, shoving resisting limbs backwards and into a wall, Sylar forced his way into that irresistible mouth; tongue scraping sharp teeth, biting skin, until the copper blood flowed freely between them.

"Bastard," Mohinder hissed as Sylar attacked his throat, sharp nails digging hard into his neck and making him bite.

Mohinder's moans were so sweet on his ears, the cries of pain even better, and Sylar bit long and hard drawing out prolonged yowls as his fingers snaked past stretching fabric to embrace hot, silky flesh.

Bucking wildly into the hold, Mohinder's hands scrabbled erratically to remove Sylar's clothes. His boxers falling to his ankles, making him stumble, as Sylar drove them back into the bedroom and onto the soft bed which barely cushioned their fall.

Sylar wrenched off his shirt, Mohinder having been able to mostly undo his pants, and pinned the geneticist to the bed kissing him harshly.

* * *


	53. Special Mylar shortfics

**A/N:** Here are some more, but these are very **_special _**ones. The first two were written for my good friend through phone text messaging. The last one was written for my _god_, Without Mission.

* * *

#1: Sylar's Insanity

The _tick-tick-tick-tick__ing_ filled the silence of the room and Sylar twitched slighlty, the timeing was off—_it was WRONG_—but he couldn't change it, couldn't FIX it because that would be wrong; Zane shouldn't know how to fix clocks.

Mohinder's breathing, his heartbeat, was out of time too. It didn't match Sylar's, didn't match the clock. It sped up and slowed down; back and forth, back and forth-_wrongwrongwrong_!-Sylar wished it would stop.

The desire to fix, to control, thrummed through his veins; sparked so much desire. To kiss, to taste, to fix, and enslave; owning, keeping, loving, killing, Sylar wanted it all. He watched Mohinder work silently, smiled whenever dark eyes glanced his way, and grit his teeth all the while.

Slowly,slowly,ticking_-tick-tick-tick-tick-tick-tick-tick-tickity-tick-tick-tock-click-tick-tack-tick-thump-thump-tick-thdump-thump-tick-thdump-thump-tick-thump-thdump-tick-thdumptickthumpthdumptickthumpthdumptickitythumpthump-_**SNAP**!

* * *

#2: Mohinder's Surrender

Mohinder gasps, pressing and pushing against the body pinning him against the wall.

He hates it; hates the man who swallows his moans, makes his heart beat with need and want.

"Hate you! Hate you! Fuck, don't stop!" He pants, a whining moan escaping his throat against his wishes, such a desperate sound that makes him flush in embarrassment.

"That's it, Mohinder. Give in." Poison purred against his throat before sharp teeth dig in.

Mohinder cries out, thrusts into the hand wrapped around him, and screams his surrender with his release. "SYLAR!"

* * *

#3: Innocent Road Trip Conversations

The humming of the car and the steady bumping of the wheels on rocks kept disturbing Mohinder from his sleep. He opened his eyes blurrily, taking in Zane's taller form hunched over the wheel and he couldn't fight the grin. Mohinder couldn't help but feel glad to have a companion on his journey, this mission had seemed impossible with all the failed phone calls and now he was finally getting somewhere.

Zane's eyes flicked away from the road, landing on Mohinder's own and for a moment Mohinder felt his heart stop. Those once innocent and curious eyes were now intense, dangerous and calculating. It sent a shiver up his spine and Mohinder looked away for a moment, not able to meet that stare.Zane made a funny noise in his throat that brought Mohinder's gaze back to him, finding the other man's head cocked curiously.

"What's wrong Dr. Sur--Mohinder?" Zane still seemed uncomfortable calling him by name and Mohinder had found it cute how the taller man would blush afterwards.

"No, it's nothing." Mohinder replied, feeling slightly uneasy about that quirky, nervous grin.

"Did I wake you?" Those dark bushy eyebrows rose and Mohinder chuckled lightly, starting to feel more at ease because Zane's eyes were so warm and he probably had imagined the coldness.

"Not at all," Mohinder replied his eyes moving to the dashboard clock, "I've slept enough."

Those bushy eyebrows furrowed, Zane glanced away from the road again and gave Mohinder a disbelieving look.

"You've only slept for an hour. How is that enough? We've been driving all night." Zane was adorable like that, Mohinder decided, and he gave a sheepish smile, running a hand through his hair.

"Well...I usually don't sleep much anyways." He admitted feeling foolish.Zane clucked his tongue, much like how Mohinder's mother would when disappointed and that caused a sharp pain to slice his heart. He hadn't spoken to her in weeks and should probably set to doing that sometime soon.

"I'm not letting you drive until you've had three hours." Zane stated firmly, his chin jutting out and his shoulder's straightening.He looked like a rooster puffing out his chest and Mohinder couldn't help but burst into laughter.

"Okay, fine! I'll sleep some more." Mohinder chuckled, wrapping his jacket around his shoulders more tightly and kicking off his shoes.

"Good." Zane replied, sending him a lopsided grin and Mohinder curled into a comfortable ball. "Sweet dreams."

Mohinder drifted off with a smile, the image of Zane smiling down at him imprinted in his mind. He thought that maybe he felt a hand brush lovingly across his cheek before he drifted fully asleep, but he put that off as being part of his dream. A dream where Zane's smiles led to kisses and the wonderful pleasures of his long body wrapped around Mohinder's own.

* * *

A/N: And that's it. Those are the stories I'm 'willing' to put out for public viewing. Now, hopefully, the block will be gone and allow me to write more. (sigh) 


	54. Adameter and Mylar

**A/N: **Some random drabblings I had with my Good Friend and my Crazy Friend. **Finale spoilers** for those of you who haven't seen the last episode from Season Two. First is Adameter and the last two are Mylar.

**

* * *

**

**1) What's happening in the coffin...**

Adam's throat was hoarse from yelling, he was dizzy from lack of air, and his mind was starting to play tricks on him. He felt faint sweeping touches skid up his leg, over his stomach, across his chin--all of them painfully familiar bringing up memories of seductive dark nights of too much heat and pleasure.

Adam had no idea how long he lay in the coffin, how long he felt those haunted touches, but he did know he couldn't get enough of this insanity. He stroked his heated flesh with sweaty fingers, grasped and bucked his hand, his pelvis, into the hard wooden roof.

He couldn't scream anymore, could barely talk, but Adam could still gasp at the height of his pleasurable release; his bitten lips mouthing another, new, hated name, "Peter."

* * *

**2)** **What happened in the car...**

"Stop it." Mohinder snapped, swerving the car suddenly into the next lane and shivering as Sylar chuckled darkly against his ear, jabbing the gun harder into his ribs.

"You don't get to make any demands here Dr. Suresh." He purred, his tongue sliding hotly against Mohinder's ear.

In the backseat Maya pulled Molly closer smothering the small head against her breast so the little girl wouldn't have to see the humiliation Mohinder was being forced to suffer.

She closed her eyes trying not to remember how good that tongue had felt trailing down her own neck, how strong and warm those hands felt caressing her breasts and over her flat stomach.

Mohinder inhaled sharply and even though Maya couldn't see she knew Sylar's hand had slipped past waistband of those pants, teasing over aching silky flesh that made the gorgeous Indian man start to squirm.

* * *

**3) What happened before getting in the car...**

"Maya, take the little runt and go to the car." Sylar ordered, his eyes not leaving Mohinder's back as the Indian continued hugging the child. When Maya made to motion, he turned on her and fired the gun, just missing her head, and that sent the woman in motion.

She hurried over to grasp Molly's arm and started pulling her towards the door.

"Don't do anything stupid or else someone will get hurt." Sylar warned as the two vanished.

His dark eyes staring intently as Mohinder slowly started rising from his knees, Sylar found he didn't like that. He stalked forward, his gun-wielding hand jabbing Mohinder's back down onto his knees. Sylar admired the fear and fury reflected in those dark eyes, a slow smile spreading across his lips; Mohinder sure looked silly with that bandage on his face.

The dark man swallowed hard as cold metal pressed against his forehead right between his eyes. Mohinder forced himself not to tremble, not to lick his lips in anticipation, as that other pale hand moved to unzip those jean's; that fabric sliding down lean, pale legs as Sylar stepped forward, out of them, and closer to his now trembling prey.

As much as Mohinder wanted to hate this humiliation, be disgusted by what was about to take place, he couldn't stop the electric heat from pooling into his groin; the confining space of his pants making him squirm as Sylar pressed hot, sticky flesh against his tightened lips.

One click from the gun and Mohinder's mouth opened…

* * *

**A/N: **Hee! 


	55. Xmas Mylar Family

A/N: Hee! 50,000 words. This is crack.

Mylar Prompt: "Holly"

* * *

"DECK THE HALLS WITH BOUGHS OF HOLLY—" 

"—THERE WILL BE A SPECIAL KIND OF FEELING—"

"—MOTHER AND CHILD. HOLY INFANT SO TENDER AND MILD—"

"—SANTA CLAUS IS COMING TO TOWN–"

"FALALA—BOYS BE SINGING—IN HEAVENLY PEACE—HE KNOWS WHEN YOU ARE—LA, LA, LA!"

Sylar grit his teeth in pain, a headache pounding against his temple, as he walked through the crowded mall getting angrier each second because of that annoyingly loud and chirpy Christmas music. He was ready to murder the rushed people who kept bumping into his shoulder, knocking him off balance. He was also ready to start screaming and go running out of the mall with flailing arms—anything to get rid or distract him from that horrible cheery noise.

The only thing that kept him from killing people and kept him from running away was the warm cocoa hand wrapped tightly around his own, pulling him deeper into the crowd. His gorgeous Mohinder, dressed in a clashing purple scarf and an orange and red striped elfish toque that bounced a pom-pom against his shoulder, kept shooting him blinding smiles and excited giggles that warmed Sylar to the core; made him feel special.

"What about this?" Mohinder asked eagerly, dragging his boyfriend over to a stand full of cute pink and purple scarves and mittens. "Do you think Molly will like these? Oh! Or these?"

Sylar glared at the mittens shoved into his face, they were too bright a pink to be allowed and Sylar knew Molly would hate them but the Christmas music was grating on his nerves so he nodded anyways. "Yes, they're fine. Let's go."

"Oh no!" Mohinder shook his head, the pom-pom bouncing back and forth, "We still have to buy her a Christmas present."

"Can't that be her Christmas present?" He stated pointing to the horrendous mitts and wincing as a little child started throwing a temper tantrum three stores away.

"You want her to freeze?!" Mohinder looked very close to how Sylar's mother looked before she started throwing a fit and Sylar instinctively reacted to calm his lover down.

"No, no, I don't want her to freeze." He pulled the mitts from his lover's grasp and moved hastily to pay for them, Mohinder following him with a cheery bounce in his step.

Sylar soon found himself being dragged off once more, trying to avoid trampling little runts who had escaped their mommies. The headache was getting worse and he was starting to feel nauseas but that warm hand kept squeezing back whenever he inadvertently squeezed due to pain and Sylar forced himself to keep going.

After a five minute walk Mohinder seemed to notice his lover was stumbling for no reason at all and he turned quizzical brown eyes to take in Sylar's face, widening as he noticed how pale it was.

"Are you okay?" He asked, moving in close and placing his hand against Sylar's sweaty face, frowning at the wince Sylar made as a squeaky cart passed them by.

Sylar breathed heavily through his nose, leaning down to rest his head on Mohinder's shoulder to stop the world from spinning. Mohinder quickly pulled his lover down a mostly isolated hallway and into a handicap washroom.

"I'm so sorry," Mohinder apologized in a whisper, rinsing some paper towel with cold water and wiping his lover's forehead. "I forgot about your super hearing."

"No, s'okay." Sylar mumbled, leaning back against the washroom wall and letting his eyes slide shut to block out light.

Lips pressed against his own, Mohinder's tongue pleading for entrance and Sylar groaned as the heated kiss deepened; warm hands sliding under his jacket and up his shirt. Mohinder easily made Sylar forget about his headache.

* * *


	56. Random Mylar

A/N: randomness (from aim chats)

* * *

#1

Sylar zipped up his pants smiling, his hand still twisted in Mohinder's dark curls as the Indian man sat panting and still squirming against the confines of his pants.

Mohinder's bruised lips looked so beautiful, a trail of cum still being licked away by an eager pink tongue, and Sylar couldn't resist crouching down to devour them; tasting his release in the cavern of Mohinder's hot mouth.

Mohinder shuddered as Sylar's knee nudged against his restrained erection, whimpered when invisible hands kept his hips from bucking forward and creating more pleasurable friction.

Sylar pulled away from the kiss, dark eyes admiring as they took in the sight of Mohinder's flushed face and pleading lust-filled eyes but he didn't offer the pleasure Mohinder needed, he instead picked up the gun that had fallen to the floor and climbed back to his feet.

"Get up." He ordered, gun pointing at the geneticists forehead once more and Mohinder followed his command, legs shaky and stumbling. Sylar hooked his free hand around Mohinder's arm shoving him forward and out of the apartment towards the car where Maya and Molly waited.

* * *

#2

Mohinder woke up slowly, his mind fuzzy and warm from a nice deep sleep. He shifts a little on the bed trying to get rid of the kinks in his arms and finds that they won't budge an inch; something's keeping them trapped above his head.

His eyelids flutter, the sunlight too bright and painful on his eyes, and squints above his head to see what's wrong. Something hot, something sticky, trails down his bare chest; the suddenness of it eliciting a gasp from his lips and those eyes fly open just in time to see Sylar smirk up at him before trailing his tongue over the chocolate dribbling down his golden sides.

Mohinder moans, squirms and twists against the bindings holding him still as Sylar licks his way around a hardened nipple; teeth grazing and sucking at the skin to drive the geneticist wild.

"Ah! S--Sylar!" Mohinder groaned arching up off the bed to follow Sylar's hot mouth as it moved away. The bindings pulled him back before he got to far and dark lips huffed with frustration.

Mohinder glared up at his smirking lover and opened his mouth obediently as a spoonful of chocolate was pressed against his lips. His tongue greedily licked at the treat until the spoon was pulled away and Sylar's tongue took it's place.

Sylar plundered his mouth, spoon and chocolate bowl floating over to the bedside table so pale hands could skim and grope at caramel coloured skin. Mohinder writhed and moaned against the assault, whining with need when Sylar's fingers teased lightly over his throbbing erection.

"Sylar!" He growled, biting at Sylar's lips with enough force to draw blood; iron tingeing the chocolate flavoured kiss.Sylar groaned and complied with Mohinder's demanding lust, his pale hand grasping firmly around hot silky flesh and started stroking with harsh, brutal stokes.

It didn't take long to bring Mohinder over the edge. The rapid pumping around his cock combined with the stretching burn of telekinetic pressure had the bound geneticist crying out for more; screaming and bucking uncontrollably.

His release was hot and relentless, white lights flashing before his eyes as he spurt hot and hard into Sylar's hand. He lay gasping, his wrists chaffed and bleeding, as Sylar unbound his arms and pulled him to his chest. Mohinder nuzzled Sylar's throat, humming softly as his lover lapped at his blood, and drifted back off to sleep feeling warm and safe.

* * *


	57. Playing with a New Power

A/N: Whee!

* * *

A shiver runs down Mohinder's spine--not exactly from the cold, but from something else; something more...dangerous--as he exits the bathroom. His dark hands pull the pristine white towel more tightly around his waist as his eyes observe the darkness, goose bumps slowly pebbling across his skin at the eerie sensation of being watched settles in. 

Mohinder almost gives a shout of surprise--but manages to hold it in, much to his pride's delight--when Sylar materializes out of the darkness, his lips pulled back in a hungry smile that glints sharp teeth in the dull moonlight. He wants to scrambles backwards, retreat back into the safety of the steamy bathroom walls, but Sylar's stare keeps him there; silent and trembling in fear and anticipation.

Invisible hands press his shoulders forward when he tries to lean away from Sylar's looming form, pale hands hover over his skin and Mohinder gasps at the buzzing he feels; electrical currents teasing at the sensitive skin of his nipples in short controlled bursts. Mohinder swallows a lump in his throat as horrified realization sets in.

"You killed Elle." He whispers, not a question, as the tendrils of blue lightning courses over his wet skin, seeping through and jolting his heart to make Mohinder skitter back in pain, in shock at the pleasure that sensation feels; his heart pounding loudly in his ears.

Sylar stalks forward again, sparks crackling across his hands as it bounces from one to the other in a sizzling, breath-taking dance. The zaps, short and stinging, push Mohinder's back against the wall as he tries to get away from the inescapable tingling.

His skin feels fuzzy, his hair frizzled and curled, and he whimpers as lips swoop down to claim his own; the current diving into his mouth, making them numb as Sylar's hands move to rip the towel from his weak hold.

"Fuck!" Sylar pants as he pulls away, grinding his black jean clad waist into Mohinder's hardening length, swallowing the groan that escapes dark, bruised lips.

Mohinder's panting himself; his body is wracked by uncontrollable tremors as Sylar's electricity courses through his veins, igniting heat and numbness all at once until he's too paralyzed to push Sylar away. His fingers weakly entangle in Sylar's shirt instead, barely even able to feel the rough fabric underneath his skin.

Sylar has then pulled his own pants down, he has to drag Mohinder's legs up around his waist and the geneticist's head slams back against the wall as he loses balance from lack of support. Sylar's hand reaches to smooth against the bump and he chuckles when Mohinder's curls rise up to reach his hand, frizzing just before contact.

A finger presses in deep and painful in one quick thrust causing Mohinder to yelp in pain then whimper as his body tries to adjust. Sylar's dark eyes observe Mohinder's pained face, his finger wriggling against the resistance in a searching manner until it can find that one sweet spot that will turn Mohinder to putty.

Instead of just prodding it like he usually would, making the geneticist twist and moan, he focuses his power to flash out, electrocuting Mohinder's prostate instead. Mohinder's screams leave Sylar's ears ringing; the long and pleasurable sound almost too much for either to bear.

Mohinder's body flails so much that Sylar has to telekinetically pin him down because his arms aren't strong enough to keep him still and the exertion from both actions force Sylar to turn his power off, leaving them leaning and panting against each other while catching their breath.

Sylar realizes that his electricity had been too much stimulation for his Indian friend as he feels the sticky semen splattered across his belly start to cool. Mohinder's head rests against the crook of his neck little tremors wracking his body as his nails disengage from digging into Sylar's flesh through the shirt.

Another chuckle rumbles through Sylar's frame and he slides his finger out and wraps his hand around Mohinder's slackened cock while the other entangles within frazzled curls.

"Was that too much for you?" He coos, hand sliding slowly up and down the length despite Mohinder's muffled protest against his chest; bringing the erection back to life.

Mohinder sobs, unable to stop his body from reacting as arousal starts to burn in his stomach once more and he starts to rock into Sylar's hand unable to resist.

Sylar's own erection is throbbing as Mohinder starts to come undone by his rough strokes and he presses two fingers into Mohinder's entrance once more, the stretching burn making the geneticist groan out into the night air, head falling back to rest against the wall as he presses down at the sensation.

Losing himself in the beautiful sounds escaping that cultured mouth, Sylar almost brings Mohinder to completion again and he quickly brings the geneticist down from the verge of orgasm by zapping the sensitive organ in his hand.

Mohinder keens loudly at the pain, twisting in Sylar's hold to get away but the serial killer doesn't let him get far; he presses in deep in one quick thrust, getting buried to the hilt in Mohinder's tight heat.

A broken moan escapes Mohinder's mouth as Sylar sets a steady pace of thrusting deep and withdrawing, hand tugging at Mohinder's cock to counter-act his motions. Mohinder struggles briefly, straining against Sylar's broad chest until pleasure overwhelms and forces him to presses back against the cock claiming him.

His sighs of pleasure combine with Sylar's feral growls as the pace continues, heat crashing in waves within their bodies until bright lights sparks behind closed eyelids and release is a moment's breath away.

Sylar slams in hard yanking Mohinder's body into his cock and shudders as he explodes inside the tightened heat as Mohinder's spurts hot and fast across his skin once more. He pulls them away from the wall, not wanting to pull out of Mohinder just yet, and carefully stumbles with the aid of telekinesis over to the bed while Mohinder lays limp within his arms.

They collapse upon the bed, Sylar smoothing Mohinder's curls out away from his face and soothing the geneticist off to sleep. His dark eyes keep watch while Mohinder dreams, fingers cackling from time to time to watch with amusement as curls bounce up to his hand before the serial killer sneaks out of the bed, dresses, and leaves as the first morning's light streams in through the window.

* * *

For: Crazy Friend 


	58. Snowlights

Prompt: snowlights (I don't think that's a word...oh well)

* * *

Mohinder had no idea why he had went out on such a late, cold winter night, he had just felt too confined in his dark apartment home and need to get out to clear his mind. Snow fluttered slowly, softly, from the illuminated sky above—polluted by New York's ever abundant lights—and he crunched loudly across icy sidewalk, slipping every few steps of the way but never falling, just sliding along until his balance was captured again.

The snowflakes caught in his hair, standing out in the dark ebony curls and making them sparkle whenever a stay car headlight flashed his way. Mohinder wandered on aimlessly, hands stuffed deep in his pockets to stay warm, his cheeks a rosy red from the slight biting chill, and never noticing or hearing the dark shadow that followed in his marked out steps; ever watching, ever guarding with dark, haunting eyes.

A smile couldn't help but steal across Mohinder's face as he stepped into a brightly illuminated, almost deserted square with a towering tree reaching up to the sky. It's dark, snowy branches flickered in glow, bouncing blue lights, purple, reds, and gold's off the windowpanes of surrounding buildings and reflecting off Mohinder's wondrous eyes.

His follower stilled several feet behind; deep breath catching at the angelic, rainbow halo that enveloped his prey. He could hear Mohinder's heart beat racing, thundering in a child-like glee and could imagine those dark full lips spreading to reveal blinding white teeth as the smaller man spread his arms to be enveloped by the Christmas tree's warmth.

They stood together sharing the moment, one unaware and the other overly aware, until a loud car horn off in the distance ruined the mood and Mohinder's trance broke at the distracting sound. He chuckled to himself, feeling foolish at being drawn in—becoming so distracted by bright twinkling lights— and turned on the heel to make his way back home for a cup of chai and a good book before bed.

Mohinder didn't even notice the larger footsteps being crushed beneath his foot, didn't feel the slight pressure of force that always captured his flailing balance whenever his sliding feet almost made him fall. He was too lost in thought, too distracted from the world, and Sylar smiled warmly.

He could be the guardian angel without ever being caught and gather memories of Mohinder's beauty to treasure in his mind forever until he deemed it right for them to meet once more.

* * *


	59. Prey

A/N: I'm tired and stressed, so...

* * *

The last stray beams of sunlight streamed in through the window illuminating the expanse of caramel flesh in a reddish haze of light. Black ebony curls caressed the snow white pillow as the dreamer shifted his body, curling the blankets more tightly around his limbs to fight off the evening's chill. A soft sigh escaped swollen, bruised lips when the fabric slid against scabbing cuts on his thin wrist, irritating the healing wound but not waking the sleeper from his rest. 

As the evening light slowly crawled out of the room and vanished to bring forth the dark black sky, the bedroom door knob slowly turned with a soft 'click' and a shadow flowed into the room. It crept over to the sleeping man on the bed, pale feet barely touching the ground as it moved, and reached a long, graceful arm to smooth away a fallen eyelash marring a beautiful, warm golden cheek.

The chilled contact of that pale flesh caused the sleeper to stir, a frown marring his lips as nightmares started seeping into his dreams. The shadow leaned forward more, crawling onto the bed and straddling the now squirming man's waist; its icy hands continuing their ghostly dance over burning skin, sliding over flickering eyelids and twitching lips.

"Mohinder," A hissing breath escaped the shadow, puffing cold clouds into the air that gathers wetness onto the darker man's face.

Eyelids slid open drowsily, dark brown meeting jet black only to get trapped and frozen; fear bringing the smaller body to life to start writhing against the man holding him down.

"No!" Mohinder gasped, arms moving up to push the shadow away and meeting an unmovable wall. "No! Not again! Not again!"

The creature tilts its head, full lips parting to reveal sharp deadly fangs as a raspy chuckle escapes.

"Yes! That's it Mohinder, fight me! Let that fiery blood pump through your veins."

Mohinder whimpered, his body bucking up to shake the shadow off but sharp claws only dug into his shoulders and held on tight, drawing out the blood the dark creature craved. The smell was arousing, the creature drank it in along with the fear and couldn't resist tearing cloth away to sink down in taste; a rough tongue lapping at the cuts until the wounds close away.

The struggles are short lived, Mohinder's body still weary from the previous night's feeding and he falls back limp on the bed while the creature rubs its cold cheek against his chest purring. He's gasping and hiccupping as tears steal down his face, brushed away by loving hands that pull his face up into an ice cold kiss.

Mohinder curls his fist and goes to strike, crying into the kiss when a strong grip crushes his wrist, digging into the wound that hadn't quite healed. The creature pulls back, examines the now bleeding skin in his hand and meets Mohinder's eyes again.

"Did I forget to heal you my sweet?" Mohinder trembles when a loving kiss is pressed against his skin, coming away crimson red. "Did it bother you all day?"

Shaking his head, Mohinder winces as teeth bite into his skin and shudders at the sensation of his life being drawn out. The creature combs a hand through his curl as he sucks and moans around skin; warm blood filling his stomach and bringing his cells back to life.

"Please...Sylar, please." Mohinder moans as his eyes roll back into his head, the pleasurable swoon from being drunk making him hot and desperate for the creature's touch.

Sylar smiles, licking away the drying blood on Mohinder's healed wrist before stretching forward to capture begging pliant lips. Mohinder arches into those now warm hands, a rosy glow taking place over what was once milky white, and whines with need when a knee nudges against his straining, aching flesh.

"Sylar! Sylar! Sylar!" Mohinder pants as he grinds up into the strong, unrelenting body pressing him back onto the bed.

Sylar takes his time sliding Mohinder's dark silk boxers off, the only clothes he allows his pet to wear whenever he is gone, and slides his finger teasingly up and down trembling thighs; enjoying the whines and jerks Mohinder makes as he tries to get Sylar to capture his erection.

He plays with his lover for hours, keeping Mohinder wanting and begging with faint ghosting touches that promise release but pull away before that need can be met. Kisses mark every inch of golden skin before Sylar finally decides the game is over; Mohinder's voice is hoarse from his pleading and screams, only choking sobs escape with every thrum of pleasure.

A hot mouth engulfs Mohinder's cock in one swift swallow and brings the tormented lover over the edge, body doubling over from the force of the orgasm. Mohinder blacks out from such a sudden release, his body splayed out under Sylar's stroking hands that follow the path of each and every vein, loving the feel of a healthy pulse underneath that sweaty skin.

Sylar rises from the bed, pulling the silk boxers back to his hand with a nudge from his mind and gently pulls them back up to cover his pet. He threads his fingers through the dark curls once more, petting twice before heading for the door as dawn stretches across the eastern sky.

* * *

A/N: I hate exams. 


	60. Mylar Shorts

A/N: Was lazy (and studying) so didn't get anything written (like I had planned). Here are some stuff from AIM chats with Crazy Friend.

* * *

1) Gingerbread

Sylar stands in the background, leaning against the closed bedroom door, and watches his Mohinder gently direct Gabriel's trembling, scratched up hands in the process decorating the gingerbread house with icing and sweets that would make any little kid slobber for.

He smirks at the image, treasuring the sight of those timid grins being exchanged by two pure and beautiful beings while angry feral screams, muffled by the cheery Christmas music playing on the stereo, penetrate his ears through the heavy solid door.

Suresh lies there struggling against the bonds, crimson blood pooling down between his legs which ache and tremble from Sylar's previous acts of punishment for the damages he did against pure and gentle Gabriel.

More angry red lines mar that heaving golden chest, smooth telekinetic handwritings twisting out Gabriel's name over and over so the feared and fearful geneticist will never forget that he is owned and claimed.

"Are you going to join us?" Gabriel's gentle voice, so soft and soothing in his ears, distract Sylar from the angry curses against his name and he can't help but smile back, a predatory twist of his lips as his eyes connect with those so much like his but also so very different.

"Of course Gabriel," He rolls the name off his tongue and warms at the tremor that dances down Gabriel's frame; dark eyes skitter away from his sight, a heavy rose flush spreading across pale skin, and Sylar can't fight the love and possession swelling in his heart at the sight—it's just too perfect for him to resist.

* * *

2)

Mohinder makes sure Molly and Maya are settled in before collapsing on the bed, his day having been so exhausting on his overworked body that he doesn't even notice the shadow waiting near his bedroom window.

The shadows stays still waiting until Mohinder's breath has evened out before creeping forward, hand reaching out to hover over Mohinder's peaceful face with a smile spreading across his mouth.

"Poor, foolish, Mohinder," Sylar breathes out while tilting his head as other heartbeats filled his head, the desire rising up to _taketaketake_those special little abilities.

The injection into Mohinder's blood system is quick and painless, Sylar soothes over the small puncture mark with his hand as he hears the breathing deeper and heart beat slow.

"I'll be back." Sylar murmurs, pressing a light kiss to Mohinder's brow before stalking out of the room; he has two sweet and naive girls to take care of first.

* * *

3)

Sylar's laughter turned into a hiss of pain as Mohinder's teeth dug into his pale hand which had been wrapped over his mouth to smother the screams that escaped while Sylar thrust roughly into Mohinder's struggling body.

Blood stained dark lips crimson as Mohinder choked on the blood, jerking his head to the side to get free but Sylar's hand remained clamped between his teeth and he shoved further into Mohinder's tight heat, scraping nerves raw to drag an unwanted moan from Mohinder's throat.

* * *


	61. Moonlight Ride

A/N: 3am drabble

* * *

The windows were fogging from their hot, breathy gasps but neither of them cared or noticed. 

Mohinder shivered because of the cool air that scattered goose bumps across his flesh, then shivered as Zane's mouth moved to warm him.

Pale hands traced nails over his chest, stomach, and thighs leaving light red marks all over to be soothed by a tongue.

Mohinder gasped and moaned into each kiss and touch, loving the attention only a knowledgeable lover should be able to give; this was their very first time.

"Zane, oh Zane," Escaped swollen lips in a blissful sigh, cocoa hands carding through spiky locks as lips sucked and nipped at a hardened nipple.

"Mmm..." Zane hummed, teasingly drawing a hand close up Mohinder's thigh and chuckling at the buck into his wrist.

"Please!" Mohinder begged, capturing a kiss that left Zane panting and grinning afterwards.

"Since you asked so nicely," He breathed huskily, hand wrapping around silky flesh and Mohinder's eyes rolled bucking sharply as pleasure overwhelmed his mind.

"Oh! God!"

Zane's eyes pierced through the dark as he observed the pleasure cascading over the Indian's face. His finger traced over moaning lips curiously, smiled when a pink tongue danced along his trail, and then squeezed his hand to make Mohinder arch.

Descending lips on bitten, salty marks on Mohinder's neck, Zane purred out his command for the writhing man to hear.

"Come for me."

Mohinder tensed, his body seized up and he spurted hot and milky into Zane's massaging hand.

He lay back into the car seat, Zane's body looming up above him, and watched with half-lidded eyes as Zane licked off his release.

"You're pretty in the moonlight," Mohinder whispered, eyes sliding shut into sleep and missing Zane's dark smile.

"You too."

* * *


	62. Mylarfic Submissions

**A/N:** Mylarfic comm. on Livejournal is doing this Rapid drabble thing. These are my fics so far (I'll prob. be writing more too, since the prompts are so neat). They can't be more than 250 words.

**Warnings**: death, tickling, closet smut, needles, poking, Mohinder's fashion

* * *

_#49 Teddy Bears_

The buzzing alarm clock awakens Mohinder to a new day and he flicks it off with a groan; the daily ritual beginning.

He shifts and squirms, tries to get free of Sylar's hold, but his sleeping lover refuses to let him go.

"No!" He slurs, still stuck in dreams, "Don't go teddy!"

That mumble makes Mohinder twitch; he is not a teddy bear like the ones decorating Molly's shelves.

He flicks Sylar's brow, gets a sleepy glare in return. "I'm not your teddy. Let go, I have to work."

The blast is unexpected, pressing him back down onto the bed for Sylar to curl securely around his body once more.

"Not a teddy," He agrees, resting his head on Mohinder's chest, "But you're my Mo-bear."

* * *

_#16 Underneath_

The pain is almost overwhelming and this is even after he can't feel his legs anymore. No matter how much he pushes and shifts his body—squirming constantly in place—he still can't get free from being pinned underneath that heavy door and it's frustrating.

He doesn't know how long he's been lying there—staring up at the ceiling, feeling the building shake as explosions sound from afar—but he knows that it's probably been too long to even hope for life; his blood just keeps spreading even farther.

No visions of his past flash before his eyes as the seconds count down, his breathing more rattles than actual breath. His eyelids feel heavy, his arms hit the floor, and he doesn't react when Sylar's bloodstained face appears from above with tears in his eyes.

He's too late, Mohinder's dead.

* * *

_#7 Shinbones_

Sylar pauses by the bedroom door and takes in the sight of his lovers sleeping form. Most of Mohinder is covered by blanket except for his curls and single, golden leg.

Sylar inches in, something about that leg catching his eye, and crouches beside the leg to investigate a dark purpling bruise located on Mohinder's shin.

Yesterday's events come into mind and Sylar remembers Mohinder swearing up a storm after giving chase to their adorable, mischievous princess Molly. He must have slammed his shinbones into the coffee table, since he always forgot to jump, thus producing this ugly marring bruise that, as Sylar observed more and more, he found he wanted to touch.

Stretching a single finger forward Sylar prodded purple skin, maybe a little harder than he should have, and was promptly smacked, quite swiftly for a just-awoken man, on the head with Mohinder's pillow.

Sylar figured he deserved the first hit and maybe even the second, but after the fifth and sixth strikes he had to subdue the screaming, hissing man by pinning those flailing arms to the bed.

After all, he had only poked once.

* * *

_#8 Closet_

Gabriel yelps as caramel hand latches around his wrist and pulls him into a closet.

He tries not to cry out, tries not to attract unwanted outside attention, as he is shoved into the hanging perfume-smelling coats while Mohinder's hot mouth attaches to his throat; kissing and biting and doing everything right to make Gabriel moan and beg.

"Please...Please..." He whimpers while Mohinder's teasing hand slides up his shirt to tweak at a nipple while the other presses the growing bulge in his pants.

"You'll have to be quiet," Mohinder huskily groans, pressing flush against Gabriel's tall form while grinding his erection into a trembling thigh. "We don't want your mother to hear us."

A strangled cry dies out in Gabriel's throat, horror and lust coupling in his mind; the risk of getting caught is doing strange things to his body and he can't wait any longer for Mohinder to be inside him.

"I'll be quiet, just hurry!" He trails sloppy kisses over Mohinder's face while swiftly, fumbling, undoes his lover's fly.

Mohinder chuckles, loving the eagerness in his Gabe, and hopes Virginia Gray takes a very long time making those tuna sandwiches.

* * *

_# 9 Blue_

Of all the colours Mohinder liked to wear, blue was Sylar's favourite. He didn't really know why he liked it, he just did.

It wasn't blinding like that lime green t-shift Mohinder wore the day before last that had made spots appear before Sylar's eyes every time he tried to check out his lover's ass.

It wasn't so horrendously wrong like the neon pink and orange combo Mohinder wore to Molly's teacher interview that made both Sylar and the teacher wince when Mohinder first came in sight.

Blue was plain and perfect (and masculine!) enough to make Mohinder look good—how he still looked good in those other colours, Sylar still didn't know—without having to blind, or cause other people to grimace.

Though, no matter how much Sylar liked that colour hugging his lover's body, he still preferred Mohinder best with nothing on at all.

* * *

_#1 Barefoot_

Sylar always wore socks to bed.

Mohinder had no idea why he hadn't noticed before, or why he cared now, but for some reason the thought of Sylar wearing those socks irritated him to no end.

He had tried to ask Sylar why he never took them off but the taller man just blinked down at his toes, wriggling them beneath the white fabric.

"Why shouldn't I wear socks?" He stated with a shrug and kissed Mohinder to silence his thoughts.

Sylar was soon fast asleep and Mohinder wide awake, having been awoken by rough socks rubbing his bare leg. He eyed the socks, then eyed Sylar's drooling face, and reached down to slowly slide the fabric off one of Sylar's feet.

When his fingers brushed lightly against the sole of that foot, Sylar's leg jerked to get free.

Mohinder's brow rose, a spark of glee glowed in his eyes, and he brushed his hand deliberately across Sylar's skin and watched his lover awaken with laughter.

"You're ticklish!" He cackled as Sylar tried twist away and Mohinder tickled his lover until the taller man wormed his barefoot away and pulled Mohinder into a biting kiss.

"Don't touch my feet!" He growled deep in his throat and Mohinder's throat devoured but a smirk still played across his face; he had finally found a weakness in his super-powered lover.

* * *

_#24 Offense_

Sylar had him trapped against the wall with nowhere to run and nowhere to hide. He stalked forward slowly, a smirk playing across his all-to-red lips and Mohinder tried to hide his shiver when those dark, consuming eyes swept hungrily over his form.

"You really are foolish, Dr. Suresh." Sylar mocked him as he stepped within punching distance. "You really thought you could save them from me?"

The temptation to strike, to lash out, was almost too strong to resist but Mohinder held back; he would wait for the perfect time to attack.

He had to think of something different, do something to throw Sylar off guard, and when that too-hot breath ghosted against Mohinder's lips he did something neither of them expected—he leaned in for a kiss.

Sylar groaned against his mouth while his hands desperately grasped to pull Mohinder's closer and Mohinder let himself be dominated, let himself owned.

When Sylar was just about to pull his own pants down, after having discarded Mohinder's seconds before, Mohinder stabbed the toxin-filled needle into that bared neck and watched his father's murderer fall dead at his feet.

* * *


	63. Mylarfic Submissions 2

A/N: Second batch of the Mylarfic rapid drabble.

Warning: Non-con, cross-dressing, electricty, smut

* * *

_#15 Chenille_

Gabriel was awakened from his peaceful, exhausted slumber by the insistent ringing of the doorbell. He tried to curl deeper into his lover's arms, but the noise was too annoying to ignore.

Gabriel grumbled as he headed for the door wishing people would leave him alone when Mohinder was around. He swung it open and stared blankly at the postal woman standing there blushing when she saw Gabriel's state of dress—he was only wearing boxers.

"Can I...Help you?"

The woman shoved a box into his hand, directed him to sign 'here', and headed off down the hallway quickly—Gabriel had also failed to notice his neck was severely love-bitten.

He opened the box while closing the door and stared blankly, then horrified, at the soft and very pink chenille cardigan sweater.

"Oh no!" Gabriel moaned, his mothers loving note glaring up at him wishing love and a desire to see him in the sweater; one she failed to realize was for woman.

"What's wrong?" Mohinder yawned, trailing drowsily to his lover's side and seeing the sweater. "Oh!"

"It's horrible!" Gabriel whined, but Mohinder was running his hand over the sweater lovingly.

"So soft," He muttered, rising on tiptoe to smooch Gabriel's cheek, "Wear it for me?"

Three more kisses and Gabriel did.

* * *

_#36 Breeze_

The breeze was artificial, the smell of salt and the sound of crashing waves all an image created from Sylar's mind. Even though Mohinder knew this to be true he still couldn't wrap his mind around how real it felt.

The sand felt too warm, too grainy, too detailed beneath his toes and the sun's blinding rays were hot enough to make sweat slide down his nose, captured by Sylar's searching tongue.

"What do you think?" Sylar asked, gesturing his hand out to encompass the imaginary tropical paradise. The hope and smugness and open unguarded _need_ in those eyes were too much for Mohinder—he didn't want imaginary anymore.

He showed Sylar this with a kiss, a taste of his tongue, and eventually—as his hands trailed down Sylar's chest to slip past the waistband of his pants—the imaginary world shattered to pieces.

* * *

_#44 Purity_

In their small twisted family Molly brought purity. She wasn't fully innocent, wasn't a living angel, but she was still able to smile in the darkest of times.

Her small, warm arms would wrap around Mohinder in the deepest hours of the night and she wouldn't judge and wouldn't comment on the tears or blood; she would just hold and be held.

Molly would sometimes flinch when Sylar carded his blood-covered hand through her long, filthy hair but she would stand firm and let him deal out his only affection before he dragged Mohinder back into their secluded world—the bedroom.

When Mohinder's screams sounded through the walls (sometimes begging for more, other times begging him to stop) Molly would sit quietly, obediently, and colour between the lines trying best not to smear the tears that only leaked out when she was alone.

* * *

_#33 Cogs_

When Sylar was gentle he handled these small little bits of metal with a skilled hand. He manipulated them and pressed them into each watch with a love and care that was no longer alive.

Mohinder stared down at the small little cogs and toyed around them in the palm of his hand. They were quite useless to him, he knew nothing about clocks, but he still felt a sort of power twirling them about; he felt a strange warmth emanating from each piece.

Not wanting to store them again in the dusty discarded box, Mohinder pocketed them and headed on his way. Every now and then, as he continued on with life, his hand would stray, unbidden, to his pocket to caress the metal within.

* * *

_#35 Sensitivity_

No matter how much he did this Mohinder still had sensitivity to his electric shock. That body would flinch away as his crackling waves danced over coffee-coloured flesh and Sylar couldn't help but smile at the sight; beautiful blue lightning on reddening brown.

Mohinder was particularly sensitive around his cock and Sylar loved to zap with quick, short bursts just to hear his lover scream and watch still limbs spring to life.

His very favourite use of this stolen power was sending his lightning, while his finger stretched Mohinder nice and deep, to electrocute the prostate hidden within.

Mohinder never lasted, never gained a tolerance, but Sylar found he couldn't help but enjoy the results. Mohinder screamed so prettily when electricity made him orgasm.

* * *

A/N: Hope you enjoyed them. There are lots more in the Mylarfic livejournal community. (It's linked in my profile) 


	64. Mylarfic Submissions 3

**A/N:** Another batch of the mylarfic comm. rapid-fire challenge drabbles.

**Warnings: **silliness, non-con, Bob

* * *

_#31. Rolex_

"Well, how about this?" Mohinder asked, holding the item up for his lover to inspect.

Sylar took one look at the watch dangling from Mohinder's slender hand and snorted, "No way."

Mohinder huffed, this was the third gift Sylar had turned down and he had no idea why; the sleek black watch looked beautiful.

"Why not? It's beautiful! What's wrong with it?"

"It's a Rolex." Sylar stated dismissively, waving his hand as if that explained everything.

Mohinder glared, opened his mouth to demand a better explanation, and was promptly cut off by an invading tongue.

"Let's find something else. I bet Peter would love a new scarf." Sylar purred as he finally allowed Mohinder to breathe.

He plucked the watch free of hiss limp grasp, tossed it on top of the bargain pile, and started dragging his dazed Mohinder over to the clothing department; a smirk of glee decorating his lips as he imagined Peter's face when he opened their gift.

* * *

_#29. Possession_

Of all the things Sylar had claimed for his own, nothing could ever compare to this.

Golden skin bruised with purple blotches, tear-stained eyes staring up at him from a lifeless face; Mohinder looked quite the pretty picture spread sprawled out across his bed.

He had fought so hard against the violation, struggled while being thrust into brutally and continued fighting while being fucked hard into the early hours of the morning. Plump lips were bitten through, blood spilled down both his chin and legs, and his last strands of dignity—the strings Mohinder tried so dearly to keep in hand—were torn from his throat in a defeated scream as Sylar staked his claim.

Sylar smiled as he ran his hand through soft, unruly locks looking down upon his prey; his, at first, unwilling lover has now become his forever, obedient pet.

* * *

_#26. Myth_

As a child Mohinder had loved to sit beside his grandmother and listen to her regale ancient Hindu myths.

Her voice was soft, words so quiet, but they carried with a mysterious force that pulled at something deep inside his chest; stilling his motions and entrapping his mind.

Zane speaks much like how his grandmother used to back then. He drifts from topics of destiny and fate with a voice filled with so much wonder and awe, that Mohinder can't help but pause to listen attentively.

He gets pulled in deeper watching those dark, glowing eyes and finds he has to lean closer so he doesn't miss a single word, a single breath, falling from those dark, smiling lips.

Words enchant his spirit, capture his soul, and tear him apart with lies.

* * *

_#25. Legend_

Sylar blinked out of his sleep by the sound of a very frustrated groan.

"What's wrong?" He mumbled sleepily, sitting up from his lowered seat and blinking sleepily at Mohinder's hunched over form whose dark hands were tracing over lines on a crinkled, folding map.

"I'm sorry I woke you up, Zane." Mohinder commented distractedly, still searching, searching, and searching.

Watching the frazzled Indian look the map twice over with his hands, Sylar decided to finally voice his guess as to why Mohinder's shoulders kept getting tenser and tenser, "Are we lost?"

Mohinder looked up startled at his voice, obviously having forgotten he was there, and then kind of sputtered in an adorable way that made Sylar smile despite himself.

"Wha—What makes you think that?!"

"Well, we're in the middle of a dirt road, you have a map out, and you keep retracing your steps."

Mohinder frowned, almost pouted, and glanced down at his hands before offering 'Zane' a blinding, embarrassed smile. "I...err...Can't find this road."

Sylar stared at the spot where Mohinder pointed and couldn't fight the giggle from bubbling past his lips. It took all his effort to not double over and laugh as he turned to face the anxious staring face and deliver the news to his ignorant friend.

"That's a railroad."

From that point on, Sylar never allowed Mohinder to use a map until he checked the legend first so they could avoid getting lost.

* * *

_#13. Broken_

Sylar could see it the moment he entered the room, silent and unnoticed by his prey, Mohinder was broken.

When he snapped the door closed with a loud snap, Mohinder spun to face him; dropping the shirt he was just pulling on and gave the serial killer sight of all the angry lines carved out in what once was beautiful flesh.

"Who did this?" Sylar whispered out, half in awe from such abuse and half in shock for someone else had beat him at staking their claim.

Mohinder flinched away from pale wandering hands, hissed out words of hate through his swollen red lips, but didn't fight as Sylar pulled him to his chest.

He collapsed with sobbing, gasping breaths, "Bob...Bob...It was...He...Bob...Bob!"

Fear shuddered through Mohinder's frame as he muttered that name, but Sylar could hear a different tune beating through the smaller man's heart—hope and love and want and relief, in Sylar's arms Mohinder finally felt free.

* * *


	65. Mylarfic Submissions 4

**A/N: **I couldn't sleep last night so I drabbled.

**Warnings: **rape, smut, blood, insanity, death, silliness

* * *

_#27 Obsession_

It was an addiction, an obsession, and he didn't ever want it to stop.

Hunting the predator, catching and being caught, gave him a thrill that nothing else in his life could compare, could ever be as important.

He had learned from his mistakes made in the past, had sent sweet Molly far away after the mistake of believing a parasite would die—they always changed, always continued fighting, and ultimately always became stronger after every strike, so he needed to adapt himself as a better medicine to bring the disease down.

If he won the battle, caught the killer unaware in the midst of a kill, he felt no satisfaction for his victory with left it's bitter taste within his mouth.

The triumph meant that _he_ wasn't always thinking about him, meant that he himself wasn't important enough to warrant thought throughout every waking hour of the day. So he fucks _him_ long and hard and dry, pounding himself into that serial killer's memory, into that body, so the other man will never ever forget about him again.

And sometimes he lost the battles himself, got thrown through windows, doors, and walls for reaction too slow, but he doesn't let defeat worm itself into the depths of his fractured mind, he instead takes satisfaction from the rape—eggs the killer on, begs and screams to propel that passion-fuelled frenzy, so that the marks will burn, the touch would bruise, and give him more reasons to cultivate his hatred.

* * *

_#34. Instrument_

The harmonious noises that arise from the bed are produced and play out by a man with skills that could rival any master composer.

He knows with great intimacy how to play the instrument held in his large, pale hands—knows where to press, what notes that will sound, with a flick of his wrist and from a press of his eager lips.

Tweaking a nipple, gold-browned and hard, produces a high squeak that will quiet down to blissful sighs through the acts of a soothing, sweep of his well lathered tongue. To produce a moan, grandiose and proud, he massages the silky flesh with his strong hand and smiles at the musical sound that echoes through the crisp night air with a sound that's desirable to any ear.

It's such a pity he can't make two sounds at once, the blissful sigh mixed with a gracious keen would no doubt put any other musical composition to shame, but the attempts only end in a sound of discord for one garbles over the other—though it's not all unpleasing to the musicians ear, he thinks it unique of any combination ever produced yet.

But the best sound of all, the one the musician strives to always complete, comes at the coda of his lovingly played piece. The two half notes, always fortissimo, sound when he strums most eagerly into his tool, are by far the most beautiful notes to be heard, are screamed out with his instruments last breaths, "SY-LAR!"

* * *

_#17. Salvage_

The last shreds of his sanity are unsalvageable; they shatter like shards of glass onto the floor between them.

He watches with crazed-filled eyes as the killer steps away from her form, warm blood dripping plip-plop onto a freshly waxed floor, and can't tear his eyes away from glassy eyes, from pale skin, from that too dark and creepy lifeless grin set forever on an unmoving face.

No reactions comes from him when slick fingers slide across his cheek, mixing her blood with his salty tears, and fails to respond to the kiss pressed upon his brow.

"It was painless." Whispered to be soothing against his ear, but no peace or calm can now be felt; his lips erupt with bubbling, hysterical laughter.

She's dead! She's dead!" He giggles with mirthless glee, the urge to clap his hands fills his mind but to do so would mean smacking the gun against his hand. He drops the gun, it makes a clattering noise, and doubles over with painful laughter unable to stop the sobs; he can't even salvage his dignity anymore.

The killer is not amused, watches him crumble with an irritated frown, and hauls him to his feet as the sirens sound far off in the distance.

"You're going to be okay, Mohinder," The killer explains uselessly into his ear, dragging him down the white-washed halls. "I'll take care of you."

The last words he ever wanted to hear and yet, he doesn't care anymore.

* * *

_#28. Death_

They have always been bound together by death.

One killed the other one's father and that one wants to cause the other one's death. Around them people keep dying, the ones brought back to life are only killed all over again.

So much blood, so much hate, they chase after the other for they are ultimately each other's fate.

One dies with laughter staining his lips like blood, the hot blade stabbed deep into his belly like love. Choking and gurgling to collapse in a heap, but not before trailing one finger across the other's brow with an angry force that cuts in a little too deep.

Fallen together, entangled in both limbs and sheets, they choke off the other's breath and drift off in eternal sleep.

* * *

_# 46. Princess Bride (I have not read the book or seen the movie)_

And thus it stands, the dreaded Sylar stands before his betrothed, Peter Petrelli, and is about to deal the final blow.

It seems unspeakable, infinitely horrible, that this man shall strike down not only his first lover, Gabriel Gray, but also take the life of his second!

So he does something he felt he never before would had the strength to do—he takes into hand the stolen parking meter pole from the blonde damsel's grasp and swings madly, wildly, at the tall, dark man until he falls down into the dark, unending manhole.

Relief fills his limbs at the deed, done he finally gets revenge for his past lover's death, but that feeling soon leaves as he turns on the heel to go for haunted words echo up from the deep abyss and shatter his soul.

"As you wish."

* * *


	66. Mylarfic Submissions 5

**A/n: **More Mylarfic submissions.

**Warnings: **stalking, murder, bullying, smut, death

_

* * *

_

_#30. Geography_

He'll follow Mohinder wherever he goes; through mountains, cross oceans, in deserts, or jungle vines. He'll swim rivers, run through forests, and elbow his way through thousand-peopled crowds just for a glance of sun-kissed skin, bouncing ebony curls, or burning, hateful auburn eyes.

His heart thrums for Mohinder with every step he takes, he's addicted and hateful for this strange unending pain; but he keeps on walking, keeps on flying, and keeps on following after a man he knows he'll one day work up the courage to finally claim.

* * *

_#41. Manslaughter_

It was a stray thought, one he probably wasn't meant to overhear, but it had Peter rising up from his chair with shock flashing in his eyes.

"It was you!" He gasped, choking on spiced tea in disbelief. "You murdered—!" He couldn't finish, couldn't believe it to be true, and stood watching in shock as a slow smile spread across dark unapologetic lips with a sick feeling of dread.

"They were dangerous." His companion, his friend, commented with a shrug, turning his own cup around in his hands.

Peter stared mutely, not believing this at all, and caught another thought flowing through that head and was unable to keep from tensing up.

"You're dangerous too," was coldly said.

"I'm not! They weren't! Nathan, Molly, Claire—" Peter tried to plead some sense into the rising man, tried believing this was just some sick joke, but as that gun raised steady before his heart—his muscles freezing, defenceless, by an invisible force—he knew he was doomed, had realized too late.

Peter's body toppled lifeless to the floor, limbs spread out and blood already pooling down his chest. Mohinder nudged the corpse lightly with his foot and tensed when cool arms curled possessively around his waist.

"You did good, Mohinder," Sylar murmured hotly against a smooth trembling neck.

Mohinder's fear was easy to soothe; Sylar just stretched his mind, put specific words in that pretty head and Mohinder soon melted, willingly, into his arms with no second thoughts—all his.

* * *

_#23. Defense_

When he was a young boy, with legs a little too long that they caused him to trip, he used to curl in a ball and cover his head to protect his small face from savage kicks. When he got home he made sure to hide the limp and try not to wince in his mother's too-tight hold.

She was always fooled by no scrape or no bruise, no damage was ever done to her 'little angel's' face, and Gabriel hated how she never saw the pain flashing in his eyes whenever she pressed upon his purpling, hidden shoulder and hated how she never heard his swift intake of breath when she prodded the at his back when they hugged.

Gabriel could easily hide his pain from his mother, defend his face from the bullies' kicks; but whenever he faced off against Mohinder as Sylar, he had no sure way to keep himself safe.

Mohinder used words to deal his attack; biting, hateful, damaging words that caused both rage and fear to swell in Sylar's heart—afraid of how well his face could be read and how Mohinder used that against him.

There was no way to win against Mohinder in a battle of words, he could sometimes prod the right spots to make the Indian hiss fury, but those moments were very rare. Most of the time, to keep his pride, Sylar had to result to using forceful means to get Mohinder to shut up.

* * *

_#02. Need_

Mohinder gasps as abusive fingers—so light, too cold—tease over sensitive flesh, never taking him in hand when he pushes, sweat-slicked, off the bed.

"P—P—" He licks his lips and throws his head back; refusing to beg, just refusing—

Lips enclose around his nipple—too warm, too perfect—and make him whine. Mohinder writhes, chokes on air, and tries to keep his raging desire in. Teeth sink in, that hot tongue—

That pale hand is infuriating! Too slow and gentle; he wants harder, needs pressure—

Bruises form on his hips; angry red and purple bright.

"You just need to ask," Curls into his ear, sinks into his brain. Hot skin slides against his leg, stealing friction.

He twists up but is pinned down by the larger body above him.

Fingers press so lightly over the head, roll over his balls, and dance up and down, one sharp squeeze, and back up and down—

"Mohinder!"

He screams, _"Please!"

* * *

_

_#20. Portrait_

The photograph, yellowed and frayed, wasn't quite what he had expected it to be.

He had thought the portrait would show a confident young boy having dangerous beauty even in the years of his youth. Instead of that, he was being smiled at by a geeky little kid who was barely able to fit his head behind a pair of over-large wired rims.

The kid was kind of cute, in an adorable dorky way, but it was still confusing how the youngster, who summed up the word 'nerd' with all he had to offer, could have turned out to be the man he now was.

No matter, it was just another piece to the puzzle and something he'd think over when he had the time to be alone. He placed the photo carefully back into the album from which it came and snapped it shut, shielding it from the damaging dust.

Sylar turned away from the desk, stepped over the sprawled, bloody Indian woman, and made his way out into the hot sun to walk through the over-populated, foreign streets once more.

* * *

**A/n: **Hope you're enjoying them. I'm already half way through the prompt table. 


	67. Mylarfic Submissions 6

**A/N:** More mylarfic drabbles

**Warnings:** smut, blood, zombies, death

* * *

_#12. Mirror_

It had been weird, during the first while, after the change.

Waking up and seeing himself, but not himself, curled around Mohinder's naked form; identical pale limbs tangled with familiar mocha on his blood-stained sheets. It left him feeling strange, discomforted, and a little jealous—but he's over that now.

His other half, his reflection, his innocent and better self, was way too cute drooling out the side of his swollen, love-kissed mouth for Sylar to stay mad at. If his twin took up half of Mohinder's time, Sylar could adapt—but only if Gabriel moaned for his touch too.

* * *

_#37. Snow_

Large, puffy flakes stick in ebony curls and Gabriel's tempted to swipe it away with his mitten-covered hand—get rid of the snow before it melts and make the other boy cold.

He can't work up the nerve though, sitting on the frozen swing while bundled securely from head to toe—his mother's love and worry—against the crisp winter cold.

He knows he shouldn't stare, it's impolite and only attracts unwanted attention, but he can't help but follow golden skin and chocolate eyes as they take part in a newfound secret of the world. Building snowmen, throwing snowballs, and chasing the other enchanted kids around and around.

Gabriel sits at a distance and watches the joy, that's all he ever does. Always dreaming and wishing that things could be different.

* * *

_#48. Zombiepocalypse_

Swinging a severed, bloody leg into a drooling, groaning face Mohinder feels no remorse, even when that face belongs to his ex-lover, Matt Parkman.

A whistle sounds from behind him, too close and too warm against his ear, as the zombie falls sprawling backwards from the force. Mohinder's attempt to turn and attack the new enemy is thwarted by a pair of warm, live, arms wrapping around his waist to pull him close to a broad chest.

"Never knew you had that kind of strength." Sylar comments, resting his chin on Mohinder's shoulder while flicking the rest of the zombies back down the stairs.

Mohinder tenses and drops his weapon. He doesn't struggle for that would only result in him flying face-forward after swarming, tumbling, brain-craving horde and he want that to happen.

"One would think you'd be down there leading them to victory." He mutters sarcastically, grunting as he's dragged sharply round the middle with a metal door slamming before his face, cutting the zombies off.

Sylar inhales the smell of blood in his dirty, tangled curls. "I'm not into brains anymore Dr. Suresh. I collect living bodies now."

Mohinder can't find the will to fight when a hand snakes down his pants and rubs all the right places. He succumbs to the pleasure, letting his mind wander away from life's horrors, as heavy bodies thud uselessly against the door.

* * *

_#43. Obscurity_

He was getting closer. He could _feel_ it, and not just by instinct alone.

This power, so much like that of little Molly's but also different, allowed him to sense the emotions of those he sought; become a far greater empath than Peter, at least for now.

The agony, the guilt, wafted through the air in a trail for him to follow. Mohinder was still bitter, still angry and mourning, about the loss of Molly's life—a bullet between her fearful eyes as she stood nestled, dying, in Mohinder's trembling arms.

The distraught geneticist had fled the Company, hid away in the remotest parts of the world so he wouldn't be hurt by his father's cursed research anymore.

He was forgotten by almost everyone he knew, people became too busy fighting over power, and that left the trail free for Sylar.

He scented the emotions as if they were smells, becoming closely attuned with Mohinder's feelings and able to predict the thoughts driving them. Mohinder was scared, knew he was followed, but was becoming to weary to run.

Sylar couldn't wait for the day he had Mohinder captured; he'd never allow that beautiful man to live an obscure, alone life.

* * *

_#03. Sentimental_

Rap music really hadn't been appealing to him when he first arrived in America but now-a-days he finds he doesn't want to drive without listening to the steady, pulsing beats.

The music makes him feel good, though he never cares to listen to the words; they mean nothing to him. He lets the bass thrum through the speakers, through his body, and into his soul while tapping on the wheel.

He tries not to think about the reasons he listens, tries to ignore ghosting memories that pervade his mind with conversations past, but he always fails and still keeps listening.

* * *

_#18. Reckoning_

"So this is the end?" Blood spurts from crimson-stained lips, a gun pressed hard into a heaving chest.

"Yes." Steady, sure, no longer afraid.

A gurgled sigh, filled with blood, not blissful like planned. "Finally make things right?"

"Of course," Still steady despite the blood; a changed man.

"Well, today is as good as any day to die," Relaxed, ready.

"No apologies? No last prayers?" Eyebrow raised in disbelief.

"I regret nothing I've done." A cough strangles laughing words, spits more blood. Eyes dance to wounds decorating that steady arm.

A huff of anger, "I expected nothing less of you."

"Goodbye G--"

The resounding crack echoes off the walls as a body tumbles over.

Gabriel whispers a prayer of forgiveness before walking away from the mad scientist's lifeless corpse.

* * *


	68. Mylarfic Submissions 7

**A/N:** Second last batch of mylarfic drabbles. I have five more left to write and then I'm done the table.

**Warnings: **smut, destruction, non-con hints, death

* * *

_#14. Collection_

His mother collected snow globes; tiny little prisons of lifeless places that sparkled and glittered when shaken in his grubby, little hands (though she rarely allowed him to touch them).

As Gabriel—innocent, stupid, insignificant Gabriel—he collected watches, and cogs, and springs, and dust; easily forgotten, always used, and shattered into a million pieces at the first sign of something more.

He did wonderful things as Sylar; amazing and terrible, but still wonderful things. He collected people's powers, captured their souls, and made them and himself into something so much better.

The best collector of all, created by Sylar with a bit of 'Gabriel' in his mother's favourite snow globed state, was Zane.

Zane collected moans with his mouth; dragged up from stubborn lips. Zane collected copper-skin with his teeth, lapping up sweat with a greedy, sweeping tongue. Zane collected screams with his ears while pumping a leaking, aching cock in hand until it spurt out across his chest and bed.

And best of all, Zane collected smiles with his winks, laughter with his quirking brow, and a gorgeous Indian man within the fold of his arms.

_

* * *

#38. Light_

When he hears the news he finds his feet taking him down to the third floor on his coffee break, slipping down the empty hall and into a small, cold room. Silence suffocates him, the darkness blinds him, but he still can feel the presence of _that_ person there.

The urge to flick the lights is tempting, illuminate the room and reveal them both; let _him_ know he's there — he doesn't.

He stands still, staring; pretends to make out the curled and crying form (_he_ would never get here wound-free). Then he leaves, promising to turn the lights on tomorrow.

_

* * *

#06. Prophetic_

"Can you get me James Carson's folder, Sylar?"

"Sure."

Sylar shuffles through the folder file, memorizing names as he passes them by in his search for James. His long, pale fingers, well suited for work with a watch, stutter over the pile of folders when a photograph slips from his grasp.

It's a family photo with Chandra standing proud in the middle of three, a hint of a smile tickling his lips. Chandra's arm holds tight his wife, who smiles pleasantly towards photo lens, but Sylar's eyes follow the path of her arms, then hands; they rest upon the broad shoulders of a smiling teen with a horrid orange shirt and wild curly hair.

"Sylar?"

Sharp and disruptive, Chandra's voice pulls Sylar's soul from getting trapped within the teen's glittering eyes. He shuffles the folder out from the pile and walks towards the older man.

"Who's this?"

Chandra takes the folder, barely glances towards the photograph, and begins typing data into the computer.

"Well?"

"What? Oh, that's a family photo taken years ago."

"This is your son then?"

"Yes; Mohinder."

"Like your lizard?"

Chandra chuckles, amused by his own little joke, "Yes, like my lizard."

Sylar takes in the photograph once more. He's never heard of Chandra's son before, only of his daughter Shanti, and it leaves him a little put out; he thought he knew everything about Chandra.

Still, his recent discovery is interesting and he can't help asking, "Do you think I'll ever meet him?"

"Hmm…Probably."

Sylar smiles.

_

* * *

#40. Faulty Reasoning_

Mohinder sighed, tugging at the chains holding him to the bed; it really had been his own fault.

_'Sylar is dangerous! You need to move som__ewhere and hide, Mohinder. Your__ apartment isn't safe anymore."_

_'To protect you and Molly, I'm having you moved somewhere safe.__ No, don't you dare argue with me on this Mohinder!__'_

_'__Even though it's been three months, that __doesn't mean Sylar's not going to come ba__ck for you. You should move now before he does.__'_

All of them had good arguments, all of them had known reason, but Mohinder had still believed he was safe; three month with nothing happening did that to a man, gave him a false sense of security.

Eventually, his words had gotten through to his friends and they started to back off—the biggest mistake.

Mohinder hadn't known Sylar had just been bidding his time, slipping through the cracks of his ever-watchful protectors until he could find a time to strike. When the opportunity presented itself, he took full advantage.

It led to Mohinder being bound to a bed with no clothes or idea of where he was, only able to count down the seconds, with the clock, until Sylar returned.

_

* * *

#47 Paradise Lost_

He remembers reading stories in college on angels and demons, the Garden of Eden, and of God. It had been a difficult class full of religious ideologies from a culture far removed from his own beliefs.

Now though, standing at the edge of the debris and taking in the fallen, burnt up structures, he can't help but think of that story—for no reason at all. He keeps on thinking, 'we sinned again', as arms wrap securely, protectively, around his waist, holding him up.

The New York from before had been a paradise compared to this barren, wasteland of hell.

_

* * *

#45. Beatitude_

No feeling, no rush of a kill or a drug or a power, can compare to this.

The overwhelming pleasure, a taste of eternal bliss for just a few, mind-numbing, seconds, originate from that mouth crushed hard against his. From that battering cock that slams into him over and over again. From his name, self chosen and beautiful, being screamed breathless into his soul—making him real, making him better, making him whole.

Nothing can ever compare.

_

* * *

#10. Mementos_

He threw away the slabs of wood, pieces of plastic and see-through glass. He threw away the chair, the half-emptied bag, and the suitcase full of clothes. He threw away his hopes, his dreams, and the bar of stolen (and used) motel soap.

He kept the broken shards from the green tea cup, still faintly smelling of spiced herbs.

_

* * *

#22. Monster_

Mohinder clenches his jaw, bites at his tongue, and forces himself to keep the spitting fury in. He hates him; Sylar, imposter Zane, who held the beauty of Mohinder's soul within his hands only moments before (becoming Mohinder's desires, his hopes, and his all dreams), was now a vile creature ugly beyond all words. It's painful to have to look at him, fake a smile for him, and hide the trembles of fear for him; Mohinder wants to let it all out.

His heart, which once beat equal with Sylar's monstrous own, now thrums a different tune—one for revenge, for murder, and ultimately his own sanity.

_

* * *

#42. Frankenstein_

I am an ugly creature created by desires and horrid self-shattering words of hope.

I was brought into this world of beauty, full of magic and delightful wonders, but the darkness of my soul—the unrelenting hunger—defiles this world's innocence with blood sprang up from both my hands, leaving me craving and alone.

The addiction is haunting, unending, and I hate it for making me this way; despicable, unfixable, and something undeserving of this world.

I took my self-anger out upon my creator, held his squirming, sweating head beneath my hands and smashed it out of existence; but the hunger is here to stay, festering away, always, at my insides.

I never imagined I could feel some relief, find another purpose to distract me from my need to hunt. It came in the form of a beautiful man and as fate would have it, my creator's son. He's enchanting, alive, and something I could grow to love—but I know I'll never receive love in return.

He will hate me when he figures out who I am. I know it at the depths of my soul, but I'll try to keep that destined future far away and, in the meanwhile, hold his heavenly warmth safe within my arms.

* * *


	69. Mylarfic Submissions 8

A/N: More Mylarfic submissions. The challenge ended tonight.

Warnings: umm...language, non-con, smut, death...so many things

* * *

_#05. Carpet_

"Do you want to be fucked on the floor or on the bed?"

An easy enough question but it's still difficult to choose; does he want carpet burns along his back or chafing cuts around his wrists? Not that the choice makes much of a difference in the long run, he'll still end up feeling pain, but Sylar still gives him the option to mull over while the buttons of his shirt are plucked free and the roughness of his jeans are slowly slid off.

"Well?"

Sylar can really be impatient sometimes, but Mohinder really can't blame him; he'd be impatient too if his erection were that hard.

He bites his lips, runs through the pro's and con's once more—the carpet burns mean less sleep at night, the wrist cuts mean less use of his hands.

"The bed," He finally responds when it looks like Sylar won't tolerate anymore waiting. He'd much rather be able to sleep and recuperate (in the off chance that he is rescued someday) than have use of his fingers.

* * *

_#39 Sienna_

"Do you always drive a Nissan Rogue?"

Mohinder, who had been leaning against the passenger door while waiting for Elle to return, dropped his cup of black coffee (a drink he still wasn't used to) at the sound of Sylar's voice. The cup didn't spill over his shoes like it should have; instead it levitated a few inches from his hand, hovering up to nudge him until he caught it.

"What are you doing here?" Mohinder growled, resisting the urge to face the other man who was now leaning so casually against the hood of the car—how he snuck up on Mohinder, the geneticist would never know.

"I was driving around and saw you here. I decided to come over and say hello." The lie was obvious in his voice; he had been following them, but neither of them needed to voice that.

Mohinder sighed, took a sip of coffee the burnt his tongue and leaned more weight against the car, sunlight reflecting off his shades.

"Yes."

"What?" Sylar didn't need to say that and it irked Mohinder that he did.

"I do always drive a Nissan Rogue." He grits his teeth, able to feel Sylar's sunny smile without having to look at it.

"Ah, too bad," Sylar got up off the car and started walking away.

Something made him call after Sylar before he vanished around the corner, "What car do you drive?"

"A Toyota Sienna." And then he was gone, leaving Mohinder alone and confused.

* * *

_#19. Sketch_

When Sylar wasn't killing people, he sat in the streets on benches drawing.

It had started as a habit when he followed people around. He'd spend boring days waiting for victims to finish work that the only entertainment he had was eavesdropping in other's conversations; it got boring fast.

To appease his utter boredom—which even ice cream couldn't soothe—he bought himself a sketchbook and started practicing his skills. He practiced and practiced until his quick drawings could match, and surpass, those of deceased Isaac Mendez.

When he had the book full, Mohinder found it crammed underneath his door.

* * *

_#50. Writer's Choice (Fool)_

It had surprised Gabriel greatly (shocked his heart it almost stopped) to see a gorgeous man waiting outside his shop one day. The man had smiled blindingly at him and introduced himself as Mohinder Suresh, son of the doctor who had rejected him.

Mohinder was warm and full of bright wonder, enchanting and seducing Gabriel into a thrall so when the question finally came, after minutes of idle chatter, he just couldn't say no; couldn't refuse Mohinder anything.

The lab had been white and clean and cold. It had unsettled Gabriel but he didn't complain; he wanted those caramel hands on him, smoothing lightly over his skin while placing electrical wires.

The needles had hurt (prodding deep through skin to bone), the hours of endless experimenting (torture) bore down upon his mind and health, but Mohinder was happy and that's all that mattered.

Gabriel could handle the pain, handle the exhaustion that never went away, but it was difficult listening to other's scream at night (sometimes hear Mohinder's laughter), so he pretended they didn't exist and foolishly convinced himself he was safe.

Then one night Mohinder came to his cell, dark eyes alight with pleasure, and Gabriel felt his heart constrict.

"Shh! This is just another experiment." Mohinder had soothed while thrusting brutally in, ignoring his whimpers (and the blood pooling down Gabriel's thighs).

Watching glee flash within those dark eyes at his every pain-filled cry caused Gabriel's mind to shatter—a desire for Mohinder's blood rising from the shards.

* * *

_#32. Watch. a)_

Gabriel stared with half wonder, half horror as he watched himself walk down the runway and strike a pose wearing very tight and very revealing black leather clothes.

His face was flushed, his shoulders trembling, and he openly gawked at the recorded video for he really couldn't believe that stunning man was really him.

His hair was not straight and parted like usual; it had been stylishly spiked to stand up on end. His regular timid grin had bloomed into something hungry, something feral, and it made Gabriel's knees tremble when the cameraman zoomed in.

Mohinder stood silently beside his lover grinning, admiring the view on the screen for a moment before jumping his stunned and confused Gabriel.

He pushed his shell-shocked lover back towards the bedroom where he had a bottle of champagne open and waiting; the taller man didn't remember those hazy, drunken nights they had spent in Las Vegas but Mohinder did and he couldn't wait to do it all again.

(Re-watching that video over and over just wasn't cutting it anymore)

* * *

_#32. Watch. b)_

Mohinder moaned, his mocha hands sliding done his naked frame to grasp his aching, ready cock. His gaze was unwavering, staring straight into Sylar's unblinking eyes, losing sight only when his eyelids fluttered from the pleasure he administered himself.

Sylar groaned with his lover, writhing against the bonds keeping him still on the chair—he wanted to touch, wanted to devour those lips with his mouth, but the drugs running through his system rendered him helpless.

Mohinder let his head loll back while pumping himself slowly, whimpering deep in his throat to further drive Sylar insane; he loved making his lover helpless and wanting, it was an amazing rush, and just thinking about how those eyes pleaded for him, pale fingers twitched to touch and own him, made his hips buck.

"Please, Mohinder, please!" Sylar whined, shaking against the chair furiously as Mohinder's pace picked up. His own erection was straining against the barrier of his jeans and it was getting unbearable how he couldn't squirm to get the friction he needed to get off.

A breathy chuckle fell from Mohinder's lips, hazy pleasure-filled eyes fluttering open from body-racking shudder to stare mischievously into Sylar's gaze.

"You can—uh—watch; but you can't t-touch." He gasped, grinning before letting free another moan as he splattered hot cum into his own hand.

Collapsing back on the bed Mohinder let loose another laugh, more breathless than before, as he watched a dark stain spread across his lover's lap; Sylar couldn't last.

* * *

_#08. Undertones_

Whenever Gabriel Gray complimented him, Mohinder had to strain his ears to catch the words muttered under breath.

"That speech—you were brilliant." He would stutter as Mohinder sat down (the partnering desk to the left) and then hid his head upon his book, "Not that you aren't always," Being muttered onto paper.

"P-perfect shot," His face would pant coming to catch his breath at Mohinder's side (always with the assist, never the glory), "As it is always," Being wiped into his sweaty sleeve.

"That—Just—Wow!" Gasped breathlessly from swollen lips (sprawled open beneath Mohinder's glistening form), "As always," Sighed with almost no air.

"You were beautiful Gabriel." Mohinder would then, in bed, reply; his lips kissing with the word "Always" on his tongue.

* * *

_#21. Bite_

The roaring had stopped, the heavy door stilling its erratic thrashing, and Mohinder took a moment to catch his breath before slipping into the hallway.

The building was in chaos, walls fallen or crumbling into debris, and he almost missed seeing the Petrelli brothers standing (and lying) by an indented wall.

"Nathan?" Mohinder called, rushing over to his President. His hurried steps turned into stumbling when the sight of Peter met his gaze—bloody, mangled, and still breathing.

"P—" He barely got a sound out before Nathan pulled a gun and shot his brother through the skull.

Mohinder's legs wobbled, nausea threatened to overwhelm him, and he reached out for something to steady himself as the room began to spin, "You—You killed him!"

Nathan's arm, strong and steady, settled around his waist and maneuvered him to a wall while he continued his hysterical protests.

"You killed your brother! You killed him! Peter's dead! You killed—" Nathan then decided to silence his friend by crashing their lips and cutting off the Indian's breath.

Mohinder struggled, outraged, and bit down hard when Nathan's tongue pushed in; the President didn't release him like planned, he instead growled and shoved Mohinder hard against the wall, grinding their hips together.

Choking on blood, Mohinder tried to keep his moans contained, and gasped when Nathan finally pulled away licking bloodied lips—tongue all healed.

"You're not Nathan." He breathed flinching away from a loving cheek caress.

Sylar purred, features morphing, "I never was."

* * *

_#04. Heal_

He stumbles up the creaking staircase, using the wall as added support while nursing his burns and cuts. The world wavers as dizziness nearly causes him to fall, but he pushes his body further—just two more doors.

His head crashes against the door, too weak to knock, and he listens to footsteps hurrying within.

Arms catch him as the door flies open, a cultured voice hisses swears into his hair, and he is dragged into the dimly lit living room to be placed sprawled across the couch.

He's brought out of a moment of unconsciousness when a cool, antiseptic cloth brushes over wounds on his naked chest.

"What happened this time?" He opens heavy eyes to see a face looming over his, teeth worrying dark lips.

"Mohind—" He groans as Mohinder's hand presses, accidentally, onto a bruise on his thigh.

Mohinder retreats hastily, smoothes his hand through sweaty hair, "Sylar, what happened? Was it Peter again?"

"Yes," Sylar gasps, "Yes. He got in the way," His eyes flutter shut under Mohinder's soothing touch.

A heavy sigh, disappointed and frustrated, slips through Mohinder's lips as he bandages the wounds as best he can.

"You really need to go after Claire." Mohinder states missing the pleased smile that flits across Sylar's face, "If you could heal yourself, you wouldn't come home hurt anymore."

Sylar reaches up to bring Mohinder in for a silencing kiss. "Don't worry; I plan to kill her next."

Mohinder sighs with relief against his lips, "Good."

* * *

A/N: I finished all 50 prompts and some extras. 


	70. Mylarfic Challenge Extras

A/N: Some extra drabbles for the mylarfic rapid-fire challenge.

Warnings: death, drowning, smut, language

* * *

_#37. Snow b)_

Despite all the layers of clothes he's wearing, he's still freezing his ass off.

Standing in the middle of a deserted field of snow, Mohinder wonders again why he's doing this—why is he so drawn to his father's murder?

Every breath he draws feels like ice in lining his lungs, every shiver seems only to rid him the heat he tries to preserve. He stands still and silent with a crumpled note crinkling between his frozen fingers; waiting and waiting as he keeps getting colder.

He's not surprised when a hand encloses round his, despite there being no crunch of steps, and there's no resistance from him when he's pulled against a warm chest.

"You came." Sylar puffs moist air against his cheek.

"You knew I would." Mohinder lets his eyes slide shut and gives in to the burning embrace.

* * *

_#16. Underneath b)_

Mohinder laughs as a splash of cool water shocks his back, Molly's gleeful laughter erupting from behind. He turns in the pool and almost crashes into another child; the pool is such a rowdy place in the summer heat wave.

"I'm going to get you for that." He warns the giggling girl and he gives chase as she takes off to the other side, eyes glancing briefly to make sure Matt's still guarding their stuff while chowing down on a hot dog.

His hand curls around Molly's small wrist, laughing his victory until Molly slaps water into his face. Mohinder closes his eyes to shield them from the chlorine-water's sting and then—

_He's holding Molly's flailing body down underneath the water. Gurgling screams bubble up in his face as legs kick and squirm but are no match for his strength. People around __them keep playing, Matt keeps__ eating, and Mohinder keeps Molly's head from rising up above_—

The water slaps him out of the daydream leaving him gasping while his heart races. Molly pulls her wrist free while he's caught off guard and takes off running with her wet hair whipping behind her as she laughs.

Mohinder stands stunned, staring after the small girl as a chill runs down his spine from what he saw. Molly's calls bring him back into action, he doesn't want her to know anything's wrong, and he makes with the chase once more.

Sylar smiles, hidden in the crowd, and listens to Mohinder's heart pound.

* * *

_#02. Need b)_

If he had had the choice he wouldn't have taken Mohinder's father's life. Wouldn't have held that warm, soft head and bashed it over and over into the glass, spurting out blood explosively.

If he had had the choice he wouldn't have taken Dale's life either. He would have just gone to other motel room and lay his head against the wall wondering what it'd be like to hear every one of Mohinder's every breath. Instead he went out into the cold night and forced her to scream—wanted to know how that'd affect her—then killed her with her own wrench.

If he had the choice he wouldn't kill anyone, wouldn't seek anything but Mohinder's charming smile and warm, glowing eyes.

He doesn't have a choice; the need (for power, for control, for being special) is greater than him.

* * *

_#28. Death b)_

The decision to choose who lives or who dies is simple and easy. Kill those who get in your way, those who don't cherish their gifts, and those who just don't deserve life (and there are many). He lives and kills by these very rules; making the world better, making it safe and perfect but of course there is always an exception to these rules.

He keeps Mohinder, a man who has crossed him multiple times, alive to remind him that he is special even when everyone else is gone.

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_#11. Closet b)_

Gabriel often wondered if there was any place within his, and Mohinder's, house that they hadn't fucked on (or in or against).

He's been pushed up against a wall, the door, the fridge, the stove—while it was on and it added to the experience, so many burns—and against Mohinder's father's map with hands down his pants, a tongue in his mouth, and the buttons of his shirt skittering across the floor (along with those push pins, Chandra was not happy).

He's been fucked (on his back or knees) in bed, in the shower, in the closet, and on the desk.

He's gotten paper cuts, swollen bumps, stove-burner burns, bruising cuts, bruising knees, and many more injuries than he could ever count.

And even though he got hurt sometimes, Gabriel found he didn't mind. Mohinder could have him anywhere.

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_#22. Monster b)_

The death toll keeps rising and Mohinder sits numb on the couch watching, a blanket around his shoulder and a soothing cup of chai in his trembling hands. Nathan—strong, proud, and magnificent—watches passively behind him with a small smile, hidden from Mohinder, gracing is lips. It's a glorious day for him; he's eliminated the competition and made his dear little scientist an even greater monster than him—Sylar couldn't wait to reveal himself.

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A/N: I'm at the point where I'm slowing down with my writing. Ideas aren't coming easily and the ones that do are for stories that need to be longer than what I want to write. I have no idea when I will be updating this again. 


	71. Heart

**Warnings: **death

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It's large and warm and red and just like any of its kind, but to Sylar it is the most special of all.

It rolls around easily in his hand, tissue and muscle squirting crimson across the floor and his clothes. He's tempted to lick it, to taste the iron on his tongue and let it flow down his throat to enter his stomach and fill his veins up with even more.

The body at his knees, cool and drying, lays lifeless and forgotten as he fiddles with his new love—his new favourite toy. Dark curls will no longer bounce, eyes no longer sparkle, but Sylar pays no mind to it.

He's gotten what he's come for, the one thing he's always longed for since gazing, breathless, through that screen door. He's finally gotten Mohinder's heart; for him to pet, to caress, and hold—the best Valentine's gift ever.

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	72. More Mylar Drabbles

**A/N:** Just some 100-some word drabbles I've written for a project that looks now to be heading into the category of 'forever unfinished' along with various other stories/projects of mine. I thought I might as well post what I had.

**Warnings: **Variously rated. Implied non-con. Smut. An odd vampire one (that's probably confusing because it was originally over 200 words but I cut it down).

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**Blood**

When Sylar comes in the darkness of night Mohinder can never keep him away.

Their struggle is repeated with punches thrown, a body tossed and Mohinder ending up pinned to the bed. Wriggling and cursing does nothing against his foe—well it _does_ something but nothing Mohinder would ever admit—and when clothes are shredded, cool air shivering across naked flesh, their battle then changes.

Sylar dominates his mouth with tongue and sharp teeth, and Mohinder, despite giving in, takes great satisfaction when blood is drawn from his clawing. He lets himself go more fiercely when that fact is established.

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**Lifeless**

Still and silent glassy brown eyes stare unwaveringly up at the ceiling. No gasp or cry or scream or hiss escapes bruised bleeding lips; at least not anymore.

Bouncy curls lay limp and dirty. Slender hands broken, cut, and blue. Blunted nails trailing down a slowly rising stomach, redness marking the copper flesh creates no stir in the lifeless creature, the once enchanting beauty, resting still below.

It only pisses Sylar off even more. Mohinder was not supposed to break, not supposed to shut himself off in his own little world; he was supposed be Sylar's strong, fighting prisoner forever.

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**Pleasure**

Lights flash before his eyes. A cry rips free of his throat. Sylar slams his head back against the headboard and let his lower body thrust forth, dark curls tickling his thighs.

Mohinder's sinful mouth, warm and teasing with that tongue, wraps tight around Sylar's begging, engorged flesh and does not plan at all to let go.

It drives Sylar crazy, the unrelenting heat, and he's sure Mohinder should be gagging, should be choking, with his rock hard cock shoved so far in, but instead Mohinder moans and groans and whimpers, continuing to endlessly swallow him whole until Sylar's done.

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**Sleep**

He doesn't comment on waking up at night to find the bed empty and himself alone. He doesn't question those bags under Sylar's eyes while they share a cup of coffee over the morning paper.

Mohinder knows it must be hard for him, knows Sylar faces distrust—from some rather too-caring friends—with every breath. So Mohinder keeps silent, doesn't comment, and pretends— when he shifts to wrap his arms around too chilled flesh—that Sylar has been there sleeping with him all along.

And Sylar doesn't comment on the rapid heartbeat pounding against his back and in his head.

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**Telekinesis**

All it takes is a curl of the finger and everything around him bends to his will. A mere twitch, barely perceived, and bullets stop flying, cars get thrown, and people are shoved up against walls. It's an empowering having so much control; hands once set to manipulate small watches can now manipulate the greater world.

Generally his powers send objects, people, threats, away but they also work to bring certain people closer; a naive geneticist for one. Entangling his fingers in luscious black curls, listening to melodious spite from bruising lips, his telekinesis proves once again to be useful.

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**Vampire**

He was enchanted; the beauty of the man before him painful on the eyes, making it impossible to turn away.

Ebony curls glistening in the firelight, golden skin aglow, grace with every movement, and pull of those lips revealing--fangs!?

Gabriel paused, realization pouring over him like a bucket of water.

That dark, seductive beauty was a monster, sinner, and above all else: _his_ prey.

Gabriel felt the stirrings as the hunter in him wakened. He easily relinquished all control when he felt _him_ start clawing hungrily.

Sylar was ready to have another creature writhing, bleeding, under his strong hold.

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**A/N:** Since my obsession for the Heroes fandom has pretty much vanished recently (in the wake of new fandoms), I doubt I'll be updating or posting anymore Heroes fanfiction (unless season 3 is really cool and inspiring). Thanks for reading!


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